Three Dances
by mysticexarch
Summary: Updated Summary: An AU version of the JL cartoon inspired by various other continuities. Fed up with his emotional games of tug-o-war, Diana confronts Bruce about their relationship. Things may not go well, and these lovers may even come to blows. Whatever the outcome, there will be consequences. (A long, ongoing saga is planned).
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I'm a huge fan a Justice League, especially these characters. I was dissatisfied with the way they left things between Bruce and Diana in the cartoon version, but I understand that it was a kid's show, after all. This story is my attempt to pick up where Warner Brothers left off. The following is what I think is realistic and likely to have happened off screen, based on how things had been progressing and the personalities of the characters. I've been wanting to write this fic for a long time.**

 **Enjoy.**

 **I don't own any of the these characters, or Justice League, yada yada, all that stuff.**

"You guys can handle this. I've got work back in Gotham. You have my number." Batman said in a dry monotone.

"I think so," Wonder Woman said, a slight smirk gracing her beautiful face.

Batman moved away from her in a blur, dropping down from the dais next to Oliver. He loomed over the archer like a black shadow. _"Quis custodiet ipsos custodies,"_ he simply stated.

Oliver smiled. "Who guards the guardians? We got it covered." The green-clad man promptly turned away and strode over to Dinah, who waited for him on her rebuilt motorcycle. Batman watched him go, even though he had no more to say to the man and urgent business awaited him in Gotham. Instead, his gaze lingered on the two superheroes longer than he intended, the dark knight staring as Ollie climbed aboard the motorcycle. His arms wrapped around Dinah tightly (no, lovingly, the detective noted) as the couple raced off into the sunset. Something about this scene intrigued him, and he pretended that he did not know why. The black, cowled figure watched the pair until they were gone, a blank look of longing on his masked face.

As soon as he realized what was happening, he reset his visage to the emotionless expression that he normally wore. Batman's disciplined mind shut down these dangerous emotions, as if to obliterate all evidence and create plausible deniability, deniability not just to others, but also himself. Although his mind reflexively refused to acknowledge what had happened, on some deep, inner level, he was aware that it had occurred. Not even Batman could lie to his subconscious.

The expression on his face had been so subtle that he doubted anyone could have noticed it. Still, as someone who spent years controlling his emotions with an iron will, he mentally admonished himself for his slip. Such things could be catastrophic.

No, he reminded himself, the only emotion I am allowed to feel is the ache of my parent's deaths.

Amidst the buzz of activity that was occurring all around him, no one was paying any attention to Batman. No one, save one person standing on the dais, hands on her perfectly proportioned hips. Had anyone but Diana noticed, only she could possibly have read his thoughts. With an expectant look on her face and her heart swelling with hope, she waited for his next move.

However, her hope was dashed when he turned swiftly away in the opposite direction. He did not even want to look at her, she noted. Her heart sank as he strode out of the crowd, people giving him a wide berth as he went. Evidently, they were still affected by his intimidating visage even in full daylight. This fact depressed her.

People perceive him as the complete opposite of the person he really is, she thought grimly to herself.

Once clear of the crowd, Diana saw Batman press a button on his utility belt. After a moment, the sleek, black vehicle known as the Batwing arrived on the scene. She continued to watch him as he ascended to the vehicle by means of a grappling cable. Within moments, he was speeding away from her. As she watched him disappear into the distance, it was her turn to stare longingly.

Exactly one week later, Mr. Wayne strode confidently into a large mansion, the site of an important charity event that many of the socialites of Gotham would be attending.

Interestingly enough, he could not have told anyone what kind of work the charity actually did, or even its name. He found that keeping himself ignorant about these matters made it easier to affect the airheaded appearance that his playboy persona required. Of course, it was also necessary for him to have a good-looking woman on his arm, and tonight was certainly no exception. As usual, the millionaire did not know her name either. He guessed it was probably something cliché like "Brandi" or "Cindy". It was likely not even her real name anyway, which eased the guilt he felt over using her to further his image somewhat.

At least adopting a fake name is something we have in common, he thought.

With a shock, he suddenly realized that he was truly becoming the playboy persona that he despised so much. At some point, the act had become so second nature that he didn't even have to pretend. At the rare times when he had a free moment to look inwards, he wondered where the debutante Mr. Wayne, Batman and the real Bruce began and ended…if there even was a real Bruce at all.

Mr. Wayne was jolted out of his thoughts when the other guests began greeting him. Thus began the long process of making his rounds with all of the powerful guests at the party. Bruce floated around, saying his hellos, engaging in all of the repetitive formalities, dabbling in petty gossip, and other superficial rich people activities. At any available opportunity, he would be sure to say something less than poignant, or do something that made him look like a spoiled millionaire. It was so routine that he barely cringed internally anymore at his own foolishness.

Every now and then, his date would chime in with some inane comment. When alone with her, she would always say something about money or comment on the extravagance of the party. Showering Mr. Wayne with flirtation and compliments was also a common refrain. Women like this were so transparent: they just wanted his money, or possibility the trophy of bedding a millionaire who could theoretically have anyone he wanted. The irony of it, he took pleasure in noting, was that the tabloids were right. He _could_ have anyone he wanted, even an Amazonian princess raised from birth to hate men. If only his numerous female companions knew how they stacked up against her _,_ he thought with no small amount of humor.

Diana was so different from all of the women that normally associated with. In fact, the difference was so radical that he could hardly believe that Diana and his usual dates shared the same sex. The Amazonian princess would never lower herself in such a way, allowing herself to be nothing more than superfluous arm candy for some bratty rich kid. Yet, she wasn't haughty or arrogant either. In fact, many things about her were a delicate balancing act: she was beautiful and feminine, yet incredibly strong-willed and a skilled warrior. She was intelligent, yet empathetic. The list went on, each dual trait a reason why he respected her so much. Certainly, she would have made much better company than his current companion.

Quickly, Batman turned his mind away from such idle thoughts. They would only serve to distract him from his mission by reminding him how empty his life truly was. Moreover, he had to start thinking about how Mr. Wayne was going to maintain his reputation as a womanizer without having to actually sleep with his date. Sometimes he would chase them away by courting another woman. Indignant cries of "but you came here with me!" always earned some chuckles from those listening. It was a good trick. Maybe he would use it again.

Presently, the playboy was engaged in a conversation with Mayor Hill. He had subtly maneuvered the mayor so that his back was to the entrance hall, giving him a good view of each guest as they arrived at the party. This tactic paid off when he noticed a sight that took his breath away.

A gorgeous woman was walking into the room, oozing sexuality and confidence. All her garb was a dark shade of red, from the low cut, sleeveless, backless dress that complimented her every curve perfectly, to her three inch pumps. Her wrists were adorned with thick silver bracelets and from her ears dangled silver, star shaped earrings.

Only she could pull off a look like that, he thought. Normally it might seem slutty, or a cry for attention, but on her, it only drew more attention to her graceful and sophisticated nature. Truly, only she could pull off this kind of look so successfully.

Mr. Wayne's first instinct was to rush over and kiss her, but Batman's instinct was to get far away from her. Instead of doing either, the mind of the bat took a split second to consider the situation, calculating his response from the perspective of the obnoxious playboy. The obvious conclusion was that Mr. Wayne would be overwhelmed by such a stunning member of the opposite sex. Naturally, he would approach her, asking her to dance. After all, the first one that they had shared had been rudely interrupted. This was a fact that the media had, of course, reported heavily on. It simply wouldn't make sense for Mr. Wayne to take any other action.

"So, Mr. Wayne, mind telling me about this wonderful lady you have with you tonight? You always keep such delightful company," Mayor Hill went on. Bruce, not missing a beat of the conversation, had a reply on his lips instantly.

"I've always said that the best way to know a lady is dancing with her," he said.

Mayor Hill raised an eyebrow. "So, you wouldn't mind it overly much if I asked her to a dance, would you?"

"I'm not too opposed to sharing, Mayor."

Bruce's date frowned. Eventually, she acquiesced, at least having the sense to know it would be rude to refuse. "I would be happy to!" she said before letting out an obviously fake giggle. She took Mayor Hill's outstretched hand.

As Mr. Wayne gave them some space, he glanced at Diana. People were not swarming her this time, though she was certainly turning heads. In truth, he suspected (hoped, he caught himself correcting) that she might make an appearance. Consequently, he had taken steps to secure the venue from all the tabloid journalists. At the moment, she was alone.

Let's get this over with, Batman thought stoically, even as his heart beat a little faster.

"Oh, hello Wonder Woman", he said, suavely, as he stepped in front of her. "I had no idea you were coming. How nice it is to see such a lovely lady again."

Diana eyed him up and down, scrutinizing the smooth millionaire from head to toe. His posture was overly relaxed. His hands were tucked casually in his suit pockets. His grin showed perfectly white teeth but was obviously fake. Overall, he had the air of a man trying way too hard to look good. She couldn't help but think that he would be much more appealing if he wasn't putting on this ruse. Even so, Diana found herself quite attracted to this impressive specimen of the male gender.

After she completed her brief scan, her deep blue eyes met his. He normally loved her radiant orbs; how full of intelligence and character they were. It made him shiver imperceptibly, even as she shivered at the icy resolve in his. However, this time her eyes told a different story. They also contained a vague disappointment.

In that moment, a silent exchange passed between the two superheroes. Diana told Bruce how much she hated the pretense of this game, how much she hated seeing him act so contrary to his true nature. Bruce also saw that she understood why it was necessary. She respected his commitment, and even empathized with him. In response, his eyes sent her a clear message of appreciation and apology.

Sadly, this private little communique` was over much more quickly than either would have preferred. Both of them knew that people were watching. Diana broke the silence.

"Please, call me Diana. And yes, it is quite pleasant to speak with you once more, Mr. Wayne," she intoned in that sibilant voice of hers, flashing a perfect smile as well.

"As I seem to recall, we left our last dance unfinished. Care to fix that?" he slyly asked.

She hesitated for a couple heartbeats before answering, pretending to consider his offer. "Of course I would. That was certainly an unsatisfying conclusion to a Parisian evening, wouldn't you say?"

Bruce mentally kicked himself for what he was about to say. "I'm sure you'll be satisfied before the night is through." Diana rolled her eyes at him as she took his outstretched hand and followed him to the dance floor. As she did so, she flashed him a brief smile, letting him know that as long as she was going to play along, she was resolved to at least have some fun.

The previous song was just ending, a slow one coming up next. They settled into position comfortably with each other. Their proximity gave them some measure of privacy, finally giving them a chance to talk freely.

"I didn't expect to see you here, princess," he whispered, leaning his face closer to her ear. Her seductive scent sent shocks of electric desire through him, overwhelming his thoughts. For an instant, all he could think about was putting his lips on every square inch of her neck and face.

Meanwhile, his hot breath tickled her neck, ramping up her level of excitement as well. Unbeknownst to him, she had to reign in the desire for him to do the same thing. "I know. The irony is not lost on me."

Suddenly Bruce remembered the focus of this charity ball. It was for raising money to combat prostate cancer. "Indeed", he responded, chuckling lightly.

"Oh, what my sisters would think of me right now."

"Oh? Then why did you come?"

"I've been doing a lot of work with women's charities. I wanted to show people that not all amazons are misandrists. Especially now that I'm the Themiscyran ambassador," Diana explained while gracefully managing the dance.

"Fair enough." Bruce didn't have any more to say. Like her, he was far too focused on enjoying their intimacy to continue the conversation. Moments like these were few and fleeting, so they were resolved to savor them as much as possible.

Each basked in the presence of the other. Their eyes examined every feature, every curve, every line of the other's face as if trying to etch the image in their memories forever. Their brains were devoted solely to this task, as well as concentrating on the feel of the other's touch. Although they had drifted into a more and more intimate hold as the minutes slipped by, it only made them hunger for so much more contact.

Diana let her concentration slip. She let out a barely audible sigh, an expression of contentedness on her delicate face. Bruce found his heart pounding violently at the sight. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to please her this way, to make her happy. His lips inched closer to hers.

Suddenly, Bruce shook himself out of his trance. He reminded himself that what he wanted was irrelevant. After all, he had a much more important duty to focus on. With a surge of willpower, he pushed his feelings out of his mind. It was like ripping away a part of himself, casting his identity away so that he could become a lifeless husk of justice.

All too soon, the song was ending. Bruce wanted nothing more than to stay with her, to cling to her as long as she would let him. However, the practical mind of the Bat recognized that it would be inappropriate for Mr. Wayne to dance with the elegant Wonder Woman much longer. Being seen spending too much time with him would only lower her reputation. She was so perfect. She deserved someone better than the spoiled ladies' man. Tearing himself away from her would hurt, but he had a high tolerance for pain.

"You should be slapping me soon," he informed her.

Her eyes went wide with shock. "By the goddesses, why?" she gasped. The thought of pushing him away when she only wanted the opposite was unthinkable to her.

"Because", Bruce went on, "I'm about to do something really inappropriate." He slid his hand slowly down her back, an obvious destination in mind. Sheltered by her long, ebony hair, her face was completely hidden from anyone's view but his. She shot him a seductive look, a hungry gaze in her eyes. Diana was showing him that she came alive at his touch, longed for it, displaying her desperate consent for him to touch her this way. Upon seeing this, he leaned in again, as if to kiss her. This time, he wasn't sure if it was part of the act or whether it was real.

He grabbed her rear end firmly, and Diana lightly pushed him away. "Mr. Wayne!" she gasped in the best annoyed tone she could muster. When he attempted to forcefully pull her back, she slapped his cheek with a tiny fraction of her full strength. Bruce finally let go of her, doing his best to look contrite. It wasn't hard. Diana quickly stormed off, leaving him alone as she ignored the awkward glances from other guests. He didn't have to ignore it though; he was used to feeling like an ass.

The rest of the evening dragged on torturously for both heroes. Wayne returned to his date, who was none too happy with his obvious attraction for Wonder Woman. She hid her disgust poorly. It certainly didn't halt her nauseatingly poor conversational skills, to Bruce's displeasure. With her once again on his arm, they mingled with the gathered rich people again.

Diana did the same. She chatted with other guests, who had many questions about her life as an amazon and on the Justice League. The scene that she and Bruce had made was also a talking point. She was told not to worry about it, that Mr. Wayne always did that sort of thing. This news caused a feeling of horror to well up within her. He was just a court jester for these people, and she hated them for laughing. Her instincts were crying out for her to set them straight on who he was. She wanted to shout in their faces what a noble and caring man he was, tell them how he had volunteered for suicidal missions to save other people on multiple occasions, how he was a fearsome warrior who had risked his life alongside class A metahumans even though he had no special powers. Instead, she held her tongue with considerable effort.

Eventually the festivities began to wind down. Mr. Wayne, faking inebriation, stumbled out into the car where Alfred waited. His date, who was actually intoxicated, seemed on the verge of passing out. It was expected. He had slipped a sedative into one of her champagne flutes, after all. Soon she would be passed out and Alfred would take her home safely. Wayne had no time for such things. The other mask had work to do.

There was a loud, but almost pleasant sounding humming noise as the teleporter fired up. As the flash of energy faded, Diana stepped off of the teleporter platform in the Batcave. She was dressed in her usual battle uniform, dominatrix boots, bracelets, and tiara.

Diana noted the dark surroundings, the looming stalactites and stalagmites, as well as the occasional bat screech as the flying rodents fluttered through the inky shadows. It never ceased to amaze her that Batman could stand such grim surroundings and such foul company. It fit his personality though, she had to admit.

With a mischievous grin, she took to the air. The clicking of her heels would surely alert Batman to her presence, since she was the only founding member of the League who wore them regularly. Since only founders had been given Batman's "number", which was in reality the quantum coordinates for his Bat Cave teleporter, he would deduce the identity of his visitor with his keen hearing soon enough. Diana wanted to see if she could surprise him.

Gliding gently through the air, she darted from rocky outcropping to rocky outcropping, using them as cover. To her ears, she made not a single sound. As Diana went, she carefully scanned her surroundings, making sure the Bat hadn't already spotted her. She didn't see him lurking about, even with her heightened sight. Thus, it seemed unthinkable that her approach had been noticed.

After several minutes of painstaking stealth, she had arrived in the main chamber of the Bat Cave: the control hub where the world's most advanced super computer was located, the place where Bruce eked out a significant portion of his existence as the Batman. Sure enough, Diana spotted him sitting in his chair, a series of staccato clicks filling the air as he typed away.

Diana hid behind a giant penny that rested vertically on a metal stand off to one side of the room, peering cautiously around the side of the copper circle. She remembered Bruce explaining the significance of the penny when she had visited Wayne Manor during the Thanagarian invasion. Apparently, it had been a penny that Bruce had almost died upon during one of Two Face's plots. She found the evidence of his triumph exciting. It reminded her of the battle trophies her amazon sisters sometimes took from those they defeated in combat.

With a start, she noticed that the whole cave was filled with such mementos. In fact, there were some she had not seen the last time she was here. He was adding to his collection, she noted, her respect for him rising.

Returning her attention to the task ahead, she peered over at Bruce. He was still typing away on his keyboard, absorbed in whatever it was he was working on. The glare of the monitor was somewhat blinding, as her eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the cave. She waited a few moments for her eyes to adjust, curious as to what he could possibly be doing at 2 a.m. Evidentially, he was typing some kind of gibberish into a black void. Programming, she remembered with a start. As someone who was intelligent but not at all gifted at computers, she admired those who could master what she considered a strange art.

A few minutes passed by, during which time she noticed that Bruce didn't turn around or even stop typing for moment. Figuring that it was safe to approach, she began gliding toward him. Inch by inch she brought herself closer to him, careful not to go too fast, lest a gust of wind warn him of her presence. Soon she was within arm's reach of Batman. Diana reached out to touch him, suppressing a laugh at the notion of catching the dark knight unawares.

"Hello, Diana," Bruce droned in his trademark baritone, instantly swiveling his chair around to face her. Diana's heart to leap into her throat, ice filling her veins. How had he known she was there?

Her face was frozen into a mask of pure shock, eliciting a smirk form the caped crusader. "How did you…" she started to ask.

"I heard you flying. You fly differently than Clark, Lantern, J'ohn, or Shayera. Less wind resistance, due to your smaller form. Oh, and no cape or wings."

Truly, his powers of perception were worthy of the stuff of legend. Bemused, she dropped gently down to the stone floor, hands on her hips. "I don't believe it," she said, shaking her head.

"Why are you here? I doubt that it's an emergency, judging from the fact that you apparently had enough time to try to sneak up on me," he said. The smirk had faded, replaced with the straight lines of his serious face. He was all business once again.

Her smile disappeared, a frown appearing in its place. "Aren't you happy to see me, Bruce?" she questioned. She knew the real answer to the question, but she also knew he wouldn't say it. Her prediction was confirmed when she was met with cold silence from the caped crusader. "You gave me your number, so I thought you might want some company from time to time. You spend all your time alone in here, or out on patrol."

"I don't need company. I have work to do instead," he stoically answered. It sounded like a mantra.

To hear him say these words, to be callously brushed off after the heated moment they had shared at the charity event earlier that night, it crushed her. She wasn't sure if she should feel angry, sad, confused, or some combination of all three. Diana, not for the first time, seriously wondered if Bruce's feelings for her were just another mask that he put on.

"Why does everything have be all business with you, all the time?" she inquired, her volume rising. Her ire was rising to match.

Batman stared at her for few silent moments. The tension was so thick he could have cut it with a batarang. "Because, Princess" he answered slowly, choking down his real feelings. "That's just how it has to be."

Diana drew a long breath, then let it out with a sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Okay, fine. But at least tell me why."

"I already did."

"Then just humor me, please." Her tone grew louder and more irritated.

It was the Bat's turn to release a deep sigh. "Fine. Because, dating within the team..."

"…always leads to issues", she finished. "I know you know that's a lie. Oliver and Dinah seem to make it work. I saw you staring at them during Clark's speech." Diana was on a tirade now. There was no stopping her. "Question, Huntress. John, Shayera. John, Vixen," she recited, pacing back and forth. "The list goes on."

"I'm well aware that it does, Princess." he growled at her.

"Then you know that reason is flawed. Besides, I know you've broken that rule before, Bruce. I've talked to Zatana. She told me about Talia, Selina, others."

Brining up his past attempts at romance set him off. What audacity she must have to remind him of the women he had loved and had consequently failed? They were examples of his emotional unavailability, examples of the dysfunction and mutual harm that would inevitably result from being too close to a dark person like the Batman. For Diana to dredge this up was like rubbing salt into his wounds, forcing him to confront the truth that it was best for him to be alone.

He could feel heat rising in his cheeks. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe the fact that I've broken that rule before is why I won't break it again?" he spat bitterly.

Diana gave him a hard look. She was clearly not pleased. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe the next time might be different? You just love to think in absolutes, don't you?" she practically yelled. He didn't answer, so she got tired of waiting. "Okay, fine. You win. Just give me the second reason."

"If my enemies ever found out I had someone special, they would stop at nothing to get to me through her."

"Right. So I'm just a frail little flower, unable to protect myself from the big bad rogues of Gotham?" Her words dripped with venomous sarcasm.

Bruce forced himself to remain calm, cooling the hotness of his fury. He deserved her wrath. But it didn't change the fact that he had made up his mind. Maybe it was better that she was angry with him, he thought. It would be easier for her to move on. "Come now, Diana. You know that's not what I believe. I just…" he a paused, dangerously close to the truth.

"Oh?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "You're afraid to lose me, aren't you?" Her gaze burned into him, but she couldn't read his expression behind the mask. "You'll lose me anyway if you never had me", she whispered, her voice barely audible as she looked away from him, unable to stomach his rejection. They both knew he had heard her, but both pretended that he had not.

His analytical mind recognized the validity of her arguments. Better for her to think him a stubborn jerk than let her get close to the real reason. It was just like him to cloak himself with a mask of lies, throwing distractions at her like batarangs. However, as an agent of truth, he wasn't really surprised that she deflected his deceptions like bullets with her bracers. It was one of the many things that his detective mind, which obsessively sought the truth, admired about her.

"You know what, Bruce? I don't even want to hear the third reason," she snapped. "Let me just say that we are a lot more alike than your thickheaded skull could possibly realize. But you won't even give it a chance, will you? You're so afraid of something going wrong that you'll take away both of our free wills. You remind me of the Justice Lords."

Her last remark hung in the dank, dark air, echoing all around the couple before slowly dying away. Diana looked down at her feet, somewhat ashamed of herself. She knew it had been a very harsh thing to say, even if she acknowledged that there was some truth to it. She instantly regretted her words, but not the intent behind them. Diana was still furious with him.

Batman's expression was unreadable. "You may be right. But it doesn't change my decision, Diana. I'm…" He choked down his emotion, reigning it in with an iron grip. Yet despite his training, he couldn't suppress his guilt at doing this to her. "I'm sorry." His apology showed a tiny edge of regret in his voice, revealing just a faint hint of what he felt for her. This did not go unnoticed by Diana. It was obviously not enough for her, though. She stared off into the abyss of the Batman's world, unwilling to meet his cruel, lifeless gaze.

Batman examined her carefully, his mind a storm of thoughts. Then, like the calm eye of a hurricane, his keen eyes caught a glimpse of something: moisture building up in her eyes and sliding down her cheeks. It occurred to him that he had only seen her cry once before, and it was not even when her own mother had exiled her from Themiscyra. It was Clark's death. How might she be feeling right now, he wondered, if she didn't even love Clark the way she loved him?

This realization suddenly forced him to face the truth of what he had done to her. Despite her superhuman strength, speed, stamina, and near-indestructibility, he had managed to wound her worse than anything else ever had. He had found the chink in her armor, her one true weakness: her feelings for him. His constant games of push and pull had repeatedly raised her hopes only to dash them brutally upon the sharp rocks of his rejection, over and over again. His words had cut deeper into her than any weapon ever could, hit her harder than any villain ever had. But that was what he did, didn't he? Exploited people's weaknesses. Manipulated them to his own ends. Batman's history was a long line of abuse. Alfred, Dick, Jason, Tim, Barbara, Selina. Now he could add Diana to the list.

I'm a horrible person for treating people this way, he thought. She would never do that to anyone, especially me. She's so caring, so selfless…unlike me. Here I am, taking advantage of her romantic naiveté. She doesn't deserve me. And I certainly don't deserve her.

At that moment, he wanted more than anything else in the world to wrap his arms around her and wipe her tears away. To tell her what he meant to her, to kiss her neck, to stroke her perfect face, to show her how much he loved her, how much he hated himself for playing with her affections. "Diana…" he whispered softly, reaching for her cheek with his gauntleted hand. "I…"

She slapped his hand away at lightning speed. That was the problem, wasn't it? He continually fed her false hope, selfishly wanting her in his life in even the smallest capacity, sustaining himself even as she asphyxiated between his two extremes. She was sick of his games, and rightfully so. In not trying to break her, he was breaking her, and she knew it.

Immediately, he resolved that he would not let this fate happen to her. He would not let her become like him, an emotional black hole that harmed everyone around it. He needed to give her a final answer right this second. But what could he say? He was burning for her, and didn't trust what might come out of his mouth if he let himself speak. Luckily for him, he didn't have to.

"Let's settle this once and for all, Bruce," Diana said, suddenly swiveling her head to face him. She wiped her tears away. "We fight. One final duel, once final dance. If you win, you don't have to tell me the truth. I'll leave you alone forever, just the way you want it. You're a part timer, and I'll be away most of the time on ambassador business. It will essentially be goodbye."

"And if you win?" he asked, on the verge of choking up at the horrible prospect of hardly seeing her anymore.

"You once told me that you learned bushido, the way of the samurai. If you accept, and I win, you are honor-bound to tell me the real reason why you won't let us be together."

"Then what?" he asked.

Diana shrugged her shoulders, saying nothing more. As much as he hated the possibility of cutting things off with her forever, he knew it was the best thing for her. Either way, he would save her from himself. He would either win and she would let go, or she would win and wouldn't want to be with him anyway after she knew his dark truth. "Fine. I except."

He stood up from the chair and began removing his gauntlets and cape. "The usual?" he asked, referring to their typical sparring sessions. She held back her powers, and he held back his gadgets. It was a contest of martial skill only.

She shook her head. "No. I want to see how you stack up against a Class A metahuman. I'll use everything I've got, and you'll do the same. If fate has decreed us to fight one last time, I want to see everything the Bat has to offer."

Bruce was intrigued. It was fitting, he thought, for two warriors like them to resolve their feelings in one final battle, each pulling no punches, each testing the other to their limits. In a way, this battle would mirror the emotional war they had been waging for years.

"I accept," Bruce said, fastening his gauntlets once again as he moved to the training mat. Diana did the same, and soon they were both standing at opposite ends of the ring. An awkward silence passed between the pair, each eyeing the other.

They both took up a fighting stance, fists raised, eyes grim, muscles tensed and ready to spring. At first, they did nothing but circle the ring, coming closer and closer. Batman had superior martial training and speed, but Diana had strength and stamina. Both warriors were cautious of the advantages that the other presented.

Unexpectedly, Diana lunged forward with a sweeping kick. Bruce tensed, preparing to defend. However, the move turned out to be nothing more than a feint. She flew about 20 feet straight into the air, reversed direction, and jackknifed. Within the blink of an eye, she was speeding down at him from above, fist cocked back for a strike.

Batman had a few precious seconds to react, but that was enough time. He executed a perfect backflip, removing himself from the path of her aerial assault. Diana's punch cut through the air where his stomach had just been, a mighty blow that would have broken a few ribs and likely ended the fight.

As soon as she realized that she had missed, she changed direction again, flying parallel to the ground, hoping to catch him before his flip was finished. She knew that if she allowed him to escape, he would undoubtedly prepare some kind of gadget.

Batman was back on his feet sooner than she had expected, but she couldn't stop now. With a mask of determination, she continued flying straight at him. Oddly enough, Batman was standing perfectly still. Diana had expected him to at least prepare some kind of defense. In any case, she had already over-extended herself. She had to make this strike count.

At the last possible moment, Batman snapped into action. He moved like a black blur, leaping to one side as his arms latched onto her body. Before she realized what was happening, he was pivoting, using his hands to redirect her force. He used her own momentum to throw her over his shoulder, causing her to crash through the air behind him. As she did so, he latched his hand onto one of her wrists. At the same time, he used his other hand to fire his grappling gun at a nearby stalagmite. The cable wrapped expertly around the stony pillar, creating an opposing force to her redirected strength.

Unfortunately for her, she had used her power of flight to slow her momentum somewhat. If she hadn't, she may very well have ripped the stalagmite apart with force of her momentum, as well as tugged Batman along with her. Also unfortunately for her, she hadn't slowed her momentum enough to prevent what was about to happen.

The strong grappling cable went completely taut. For a few tense nanoseconds, it seemed like it might snap. But Batman had personally designed this specific cable to be strong, to be able to contend with the strength of a metahuman.

Diana's arm was being pulled one way, her body in the completely opposite direction. With a sickening popping noise, a lance of cold fire shot through Diana's shoulder. Recognizing the sound and pain as a familiar one, she knew that Batman had just dislocated her arm from its socket. She swallowed her cry of pain and utter shock. Batman, a mere mortal, had just accomplished something that not even Darkseid or Brainiac had succeeded at! Despite the harm he had just inflicted on her, she was impressed. She felt her respect for his abilities growing.

Batman let go of her arm and the grappling cable, knowing that she could retaliate with a bone-crushing punch with her good hand or a kick with her feet. Even so, the first exchange was clearly in his favor. Diana took to the air again, hoping to take shelter out his reach while she worked on popping her arm back into its socket.

"Well…done," Diana panted, gritting her teeth through the pain. She nodded at him, even as her eyes shot daggers.

Batman knew that as a mighty amazon, she could handle physical pain. It was the other kind of pain she wasn't trained to ignore. Still, Batman bore it as much as she did. He didn't respond to her graceful praise.

Diana reached for her arm, mentally preparing herself to set it, but her opponent was not going to give her the chance. Batman threw a batarang in a curving path. She recognized that he was aiming straight for her temple, a blow that would likely knock her unconscious long enough for him to win the fight. Diana was forced to abandon her self-care so that she could raise her good arm and block the attack. Her magical bracelet deflected the projectile easily.

With Batman, things were never as simple as they seemed. He swiftly executed his real attack, tossing another batarang straight up into the air. This one had a strange, blinking red light on it. Some kind of explosive, she wondered, as the weapon embedded itself in the ceiling near her. Was he trying to collapse the roof of his own cave?

With a start, Diana realized the she knew that device. It was the same one Batman had thrown at a Thanagarian soldier during the invasion, right before the man was covered in screeching, biting bats from head to toe.

As fast as she could, Diana let herself drop back down to the training mat, her arm forgotten. A swarm of a hundred bats tore through the spot her body had been occupying just a moment before. In fact, she noticed, a globe of screeching, flying, biting, slashing brown fur had completely surrounded their arena. She figured that he had tossed similar devices all around them.

Batman sauntered over to her, looming shadow of doom, completely comfortable in his element. He was taking her apart methodically, piece by piece, she realized. First, her strength. After all, all the power in the world didn't matter if one could not control their limbs with which to use it. Second, he had removed her flight capability. Diana grit her teeth, determined to persist against all odds. She would not let herself be defeated so easily. She would show him the tenacity of her people.

Diana raised her good fist, the other dangling uselessly by her side as she advanced upon the black-clad warrior. Their eyes met once again, each seeing nothing but admiration and resolve in the other. Silently, they lunged forward and fought.

Batman fought conservatively, never risking much. With one side somewhat safe from her reach, he always had a place to dodge. In addition, his much more extensive knowledge of fighting styles allowed him to make strange moves that she couldn't hope to counter. Since she could only fight the way she had been trained, the Greco-Roman style, a style he had studied, Batman could easily predict and counter most of her blows. He frequently redirected her strength rather than oppose it, and retaliated with quick jabs of his own that struck her pressure points or knocked her off balance.

Still, she was giving as good as she got. Even with one arm, she managed to land the occasional blow. However, they were almost all glancing blows, and she had to work extremely hard to earn them. Between his acrobatics and high-tech combat armor, most of the power behind her hits were negated even though she put her full might behind them. Yet Batman still couldn't afford to take as many hits as she could. These strikes were devastating, causing him to stumble, roll, or fly across the arena. Diana was absolutely certain he was becoming horribly bruised. The notion disturbed her.

What gave Batman the lead, she knew, was that even though she possessed far more stamina than him, she was also burning far more energy than he was. She had to swing furiously to keep him from darting around to her weak side, as well as constantly maneuvering herself to keep him on her good side. In other words, she had to constantly be on the offensive since she couldn't afford to fight defensively. It was a simple fact that doing so cost more energy. Clearly, he was trying to win the match with economy of movement.

"Trying to…tire…me out, Batman?" she breathlessly asked. "It won't…work. I'm an amazon. We are trained from birth to…never give in."

Batman was amused by her fortitude, her unwillingness to give up. She was so like him in that way. "Save your breath, Princess. You'll need it," he taunted.

Diana decided to take his advice as she pondered her next attack. For some reason, he was standing stock still again, cape wrapped around him like a robe of shadow. Only this time he was smirking. Was he planning some trick? In any case, Diana decided to use this break in the action to recover.

She watched as Batman pushed aside his cape and began fastening a pair of metallic objects to his hands. He smashed his fists together, creating a violent burst of static electricity. With a start, she knew what they were: electrical brass knuckles. "I made these a long time ago, in case I needed to fight Clark," Batman explained. "Their amperage is calibrated for a metahuman's physiology."

For the first time, she critically evaluated her chances of success. She never imagined that she, the most powerful woman on the planet, would be in serious risk of being outmatched by a non-powered mortal.

Batman charged at her, grinning like a capricious devil. He had brought out the metaphorical big guns late in the fight, using them as an ace in the hole to take her down when she was at her weakest. He attacked her savagely from all sides, constantly spinning, dodging, and changing directions so that she couldn't begin to mount a defense. At times, it seemed that he was in two places at once. His fists connected repeatedly with her sides, jolts of painful electricity stinging through her body and sapping her strength.

Diana weathered the storm of his assault. She had no choice, she would not surrender. She forced herself to focus through the pain, looking for a pattern in his movements so that she could guess where he would be next. Her attacks and defenses were abandoned entirely, pointless. He hit her over and over again without fear of reprisal.

Then, through the fog of electricity, she saw it. It was an opening for her to strike, provided her guess was correct. She kicked out. It connected. Batman was sent flying backward.

He retrieved his balance. Batman had still won that exchange by far. She knew she needed to win the next one. And to do that, Diana needed an advantage.

But what could she do? Every time she reached for her dislocated arm, Batman snapped a batarang at her, forcing her to block. Eventually he would run out of the pesky little weapons, but how many did he have? And more importantly, could she last that long? Diana's temporary answer was to kick the deflected batarangs out of the ring so that he couldn't retrieve them. This clever solution earned a nod of appreciation from him.

She knew she needed something better, more permanent. She needed her arm back. She needed to buy time to fix it. Brute force wasn't going to cut it; he had shown her as much. But she couldn't outwit him either, since that was his own game. Truly, it seemed an impossible situation.

Diana had a moment of epiphany as she realized that Batman had taught her how to beat him. He had literally turned her strength into a liability, and even exploited her narrow knowledge of martial arts. What if she could turn his metaphorical strength into a weakness? Batman thought he prepared for everything, so if she could surprise him, he may just lose his composure. Whatever it was, it had to be something he didn't know she could do. Smiling inwardly, she knew just the thing. It might not work, but it was worth a shot.

Diana charged in, feinting with a kick. Batman saw the distraction for what it was, and prepared for her real attack, a hook from her good arm. In reality, this second attack was also a fake. She had sent him careful signals with her body language, signs that she had taken care not to make too obvious, but also not too hidden. It had to be an absolutely perfect ruse to fool the Batman, and it was. He fell for it completely.

Diana started the hook but didn't finish it. Instead, she grabbed the Tiara off of her head, swiveled her waist, and threw the metal headpiece as hard as she could straight at Batman's chest. His face was obstructed by his hand, as he was in the middle of parrying a punch that wasn't there.

The Tiara slammed into him, causing him to stumble backwards. Although his combat armor had likely absorbed most of the impact, he still needed a moment to recover. Diana wasn't going to let him have it. She sprung at him, feet forward in a jumping kick. Dazed, he couldn't stop the blow.

He felt like a truck had hit him. Batman lost his footing, flew back through the air, and collided against the side of the cushioned training mat in a groaning heap.

On the floor Diana quickly shoved her arm back into the socket. She gave a small moan of pain. By the gods, she hated doing that. It hurt worse than getting slapped by Giganta or slashed by Cheetah. She rolled her shoulder experimentally, discovering that it worked. Her next step was to get back up before Batman recovered. She mustered her remaining strength and dragged herself to her feet, finding it much harder than she expected.

Meanwhile, Batman had also recovered, standing on wobbly legs. The three-point combo of the throw, kick, and crashing into the wall had sapped his strength significantly and dulled his senses. Both combatants panted heavily, but she had the upper hand now. With an Amazonian battle cry, she rushed in, ready to tackle Batman to the ground and pin him there.

Through the fog in his brain, he recognized the dire situation he was in. Summoning all of his willpower, he conjured a great wind in his mind that blew away the clouds of confusion. In a split second, his brain was clear again, allowing him to analyze the situation. She had every advantage now. The full use of her limbs brought her strength back into play. It was hard to tell who had more stamina left, but he guessed it was probably her. There was one thing he did have though; there were still gadgets on his belt.

Batman stood up, completely still to Diana's eyes, doing nothing obvious to escape the doom that was bearing down upon him. He even feigned confusion, tilting his head listlessly side to side as if dazed. Meanwhile, his cape was wrapped around him once more, so his hands were hidden when he palmed three smoke bombs and dropped them at his own feet. The tear gas was contained by the cape, some of it leaking out from under the bottom. Diana didn't notice it.

Just as Diana was reaching him, he flapped his cape at her. The tear gas burst forth, enveloping the both of them. Her eyes immediately stung, and his didn't, protected by the mask.

Diana halted her charge, covering her eyes. Apparently, he had not been as stunned as she believed. It would be foolish, then, to continue rushing through the cloud. She was blinded, and he was not. Besides, he wouldn't really stay in the same spot, would he?

Unable to see anything with her eyes burning, Diana closed them, stepped back, and listened closely, waiting for some sound that might give away her opponent's movements. A second later, Batman kicked off the wall, diving horizontally for where he remembered her hip was.

His extreme skill at stealth prevented her from realizing what was going on until she heard a flutter of cloth to her right. She reached out with her hand, lightning fast. Her hand met his cape and she grabbed it. Yanking with all her strength, she halted his leap and forced him to the ground with a hard thump. Not wanting to give him a chance, she yanked his cape into the air, hoping to toss him like a ragdoll. She was surprised when the cape dangled weightlessly. Bruce wasn't wearing it anymore! He must have taken it off when she snatched it.

Diana was falling, something wrapped around her legs and tugging her to the ground. It was her turn to hit the floor with a painful thud. It felt like…her own lasso! Batman must have stolen it from me, she thought.

At the same time, Batman began dragging her by the feet. Diana reached down to untie the knot. They were out of the cloud now. She still couldn't see very well, but she could perceive the black blur moving toward her. Just a few more moments and she'd have the knot free. But by Hera, how could she untie it if she couldn't even see the knot!

She felt more rope wrap around her arms, pinning them to her sides. She felt Bruce lean over her and push her to the ground. She was beaten.

"I win", Batman heaved in a raspy voice.

Her eyes began to clear. When they did, she saw his masked face inches from hers, their breath hot on each other's faces.

"So it…would...seem," she panted.

Both superheroes stared into each other's faces. They sucked in great gulps of air, recovering from the exhausting melee. Both knew the other was savoring the intimacy as well, just as they had earlier that night.

Diana was the first to break the silence. "How did you know?" she asked, straining against her bonds.

A puzzled look struck his face. "Know what?"

"That binding me in my own lasso nullifies my powers?"

"Because, you just told me. I went for it because I knew it was basically indestructible, and thus, the best chance of containing you."

Diana stared blankly at him for a heartbeat, then burst out laughing. It was a melodic sound. "Oh, the irony of it, Bruce. Only you could think of something like that. You see, Hephaestus built all of his creations, including my armor, to have one singular weakness."

"Interesting," he said, filing what he had just learned away for later. "I'm sorry about the arm."

"Don't mention it. We amazons are made of tougher stuff than that. Besides, we really did a number on each other. My bruises will heal much faster than yours will. I should be apologizing to you."

Bruce didn't answer her, just kept staring at her face. His eyes poured over every inch of it.

"Not many men could take down an amazon. If I told my sisters back home, they wouldn't believe it," she continued. "In fact, since I am my people's best warrior, you can confidently claim that you are tougher than all the amazons." She looked for some kind of reaction from him, but he wasn't showing any. He just kept staring at her. Then he slowly and deliberately began untying her.

"What's wrong Bruce?" she asked in a worried tone. Understanding found her features. "Oh yes, of course. We're back to this again." She sighed, sitting upright as she collected her lasso. "You did win, after all. I guess that means we're through now. I suppose you'll want me to leave, right?"

The look of utter defeat in her eyes stopped his heart for a second. How could he have let things progress to this point? How could he have let her believe that he wanted her out of his life, when at this moment, he wanted her in his life more than ever before? He knew that he had made her feel lower than the lowest bug in the dirt, when his true feelings were the exact opposite. She was everything to him, perfect in every way. He wanted, no, needed, to show her what he really felt. His emotions that he kept locked away in a dark cave finally overpowered the practical mind of the Bat.

She crossed her arms over her buxom chest, expectantly waiting for an answer. When none came, he realized he didn't know what to say. The words just wouldn't come. "Are you even going to talk to me, Bruce?" she asked him.

Suddenly he was ripping off his mask, shoving her to the ground, falling into position over her, and cradling the back of her head with his hand. He leaned in close to her neck, breathing deeply of her scent. Even sweaty, she possessed a heavenly aroma that he couldn't possibly describe. If he had tried, all he could have said was that it was just "her", just "Diana". It evoked passion in him, flooded his mind with pent-up attraction for this amazing woman.

He pulled back, his gaze resting on her shapely lips. She noticed where he was looking, realizing what he wanted. She met his eyes and showed him the most seductive look she could possibly muster, biting her lower lip gently.

This tipped him over the edge. He crashed his lips into hers, pouring all of his love into the force of his kiss. She was momentarily stunned, unsure what to do. After all, she had only done this once before. One thing she did know, however, was that kissing Bruce felt really, _really_ good. It felt right. She returned the kiss with equal passion, finding that it seemed to come naturally to her.

For several long minutes, they were a tangle of limbs, hands stroking bodies that writhed in pleasure. They both moaned into each other's mouths as they combed fingers through hair. He brushed her lips with his tongue, asking for entrance. She granted her permission, opening her mouth to him and deepening the kiss. Their tongues danced and explored the inside of their mouths. Bruce savored Diana's unique taste. She savored his.

They only broke the kiss to come up for some much needed-air. They were light headed from near oxygen deprivation, exhaustion, as well as from the surge of endorphins that they were both experiencing.

Bruce suddenly remembered where he was and what he was doing. He fought the Bat for control, who was screaming at him that this was a mistake. Eventually, the Bat won.

"This was a mistake, Diana," Batman coldly stated. He rapidly stood up from her and stomped away. "God fucking damn it, Diana! Why!?" he screamed into the silence of the Bat Cave. There was no reply.

Diana stood up, unsure if she should be angry or hurt. Mostly, she was just confused. "What's the problem Bruce?" she innocently asked. "Was it that bad?"

Batman sighed. He turned to face her, the mask back in place. He was unspeakably angry at himself. He had crossed a line he had told himself he couldn't. He did think that Diana deserved to know, though, how much he had enjoyed what they had just done. "No. It was the best two minutes of my life. Don't ever think otherwise. I appreciate every minute I have with you like it's my last meal. Every hour we're apart I think about you. You're the only good thing in my otherwise bleak and empty life. When I'm around you, I even forget about my parents."

"Bruce…I…I…" she couldn't even form a coherent sentence. She was too overcome with joy, her mind processing his words over and over. He had finally opened up to her, told her how he really felt. To know that he thought about her this way…the feeling was indescribable, totally unlike anything else she had ever felt before. Tears cascaded down her cheeks. It seemed as if her heart would beat right out of her chest. "Bruce, that's…that's beautiful.

His back still turned, he spoke over his shoulder. "All that aside, we can't be together. Surely you can see that."

Her tears intensified, though she did not know what kind of tears they were now. Her head was spinning, reeling as if she had been struck. One minute he was passionately kissing her and she was having the best experience of her life. The next, he was pushing her away as if that event hadn't even happened. He confessed his guarded feelings for her, then said he didn't want her. It was a labyrinth of confusion, frustration, and pain.

She couldn't take this pressure anymore. Her heart felt as if it might explode. "But…why?" she sobbed. More than anything else, she just wanted to know the reason why her love was doing this to her.

"Look at what I'm doing to you, what I _have_ done to you for a long time. I pull you in, then push you away again. I'm sending you on an emotional roller coaster. Hell, I'm doing it right now! That's all I do, exploit and manipulate people. I hurt everyone around me and drag them into my abyss. You don't deserve someone like that. You don't deserve me, and I sure as hell don't deserve you. You belong with someone else." Batman pivoted and walked over to her, getting within inches of the stunned woman. He reached out and brushed away her tears with his thumb. "Just promise me two things, Diana. Promise me that you won't ever forget that you are an amazing woman. Don't ever forget it, I'm serious. Also promise me that you won't ever forget that I love you more than life itself. Now go, be happy with someone else. Maybe Clark."

He saw stars as he reeled from Diana's slap, stumbling backwards like a blind mouse. While he recovered, she walked right up to him. It was her turn to shout at the top of her lungs. "Don't you ever say that to me again, do you hear me?! Don't you ever tell me who I love or don't love! I don't want anyone else! Not Clark, not Faraday, no one. I. Want. You. If you could get that through your stubborn brain, you might have a chance at happiness instead of rotting away in that chair of yours, becoming a bitter old man!"

His ears rang from her verbal assault and his face felt as it had been burned. But he knew he deserved it. "You might want me, but you'll never be happy with me. Not for long anyway. Don't you _fucking_ get it yet Diana? This whole time I've been protecting you from myself. Do you want to know _why?_ Do you want to know the answer you've been so insistently begging for? Well here it is…" it was Batman's turn to raise his voice.

"The truth is, I'm not even a real person! I'm just two equally pathetic masks with nothing but pain behind them. Don't you see? There's nothing for me to give Diana, because I have nothing! I'm just a shell of a person. I'll just take and take and take from you until you have nothing left, until you're like me. Is that what you want?! Because I sure as hell don't want that for you!

"Besides, one day, I'll die. I'm not immortal. I age. You'll watch me wither away into nothing, cutting pills for me and taking care of me. Meanwhile, you'll be the picture of youth, as beautiful and vibrant as ever. My entire existence would be just one microcosm of yours, and you would have the rest of eternity to mourn me. Please, just let me trade my short lifetime of loneliness for the eternity of happiness that you would have without me."

Diana listened to his long speech with rapt attention. His words summoned more tears to her eyes. She fell into him, resting her head on his chest, arms wrapped around him lovingly. He simply stood there impassively, feeling her body pressed against his as her tears soaked into his Batsuit. He was completely spent, emotionally, physically, and mentally. He couldn't muster the energy to push her away. "I'm sorry, Diana. I really am. It's better this way. Just go, please. Leave. Don't make this harder than it already is." His voice was weak, even to his ears. He was at the end of his rope, so he simply begged. He had nothing more to say to her. She knew the truth, now, and there was no way she'd want to stay with him.

To his surprise, she started laughing. As always, it was like music to his ears. But a feeling of trepidation overcame him. Had he broken her?

"Oh, Bruce," she said, barely whispering. She stroked his back and chest tenderly. "You must be the sweetest guy in the entire universe, putting me first always, willing to sacrifice yourself for me like this. You know, you're also one of the smartest people I know. Yet sometimes, you can be so stupid. How can you not realize that the more you push me away, the more I love you? You're so self-sacrificing, so caring, so empathetic. You're giving everything you've got for the city that you love, in both masks. I've seen Batman try to sacrifice himself without hesitation for me, the rest of the team, civilians, and even the entire planet. You fight alongside us, face the same perils, even bested me in combat, all without any special powers. That makes you not only bravest person I know, but the strongest warrior as well. I have so much respect and admiration for you." Diana stopped for a deep breath, letting her words hang in the air for his consideration.

"You are so much more than your masks, Bruce. I love all of your personas for different reasons, but the one I love most is not Batman, not Mr. Wayne, but you, Bruce. The real you. You might not believe you're even there, but I do. Please, let me in. Let me show you that you're not just an empty shell. Let me heal you. You deserve happiness more than anyone I know of."

A long silence followed her words. They waited there in the same position for what felt like an hour. Diana eventually began to wonder if Bruce had even heard her. Regardless, she refused move at all. He was gathering the courage to reject her again, and at this point she didn't know what she would do. She didn't know what she could do at the moment other than display her enduring affection for this man in a desperate attempt to change his mind. Show him that contrary to his opinion, he was just as lovable as anyone else. Show him that despite all of his wounds, despite the torment he put her through, she forgave him. So she continued to embrace him tightly, as if to magically transfer all of her love into him.

Diana suddenly felt moisture slide down his chest and into her hair. She looked up at Bruce to see the one sight she never, ever thought that she would see: Bruce in tears. Not just crying, but crying from beauty of her words, words that he had desperately needed to hear, words that only she, who could see through all of his masks, could have gifted him. They were words he had been waiting for, had craved all this time without realizing it.

Their eyes met yet again, and they stared into each other's wet orbs for a long time, Diana loving that she could feel his heartbeat and Bruce brushing her luscious midnight hair endlessly. Finally, Bruce broke the silence.

"Diana. Thank-" he tried to say thank you, but couldn't talk past the lump in his throat. He only succeeded at drenching her hair with more tears.

"Shhh…" she said, putting a finger to his lips. I know, she mouthed silently to him.

He waited until he regained his composure. "But what about your lifespan?" he asked, sliding his hands down her slender waist.

In response, she wrapped her toned arms around the back of his neck. "I would rather mourn you forever than watch you die without ever knowing your touch, wondering what we could have had together, whatever that is and however fleeting it would be."

"But…", he tried to object.

"But nothing, Bruce. I'm a free woman. My decisions are mine for me to make. You can't take that away from me, no matter how much you think it is necessary. Just as you would want to protect me from harm, so to must I protect you from making a terrible mistake. Please, give our love a chance."

"When my parents died, I was broken. If you died, it would kill me."

"We amazons have a saying. 'Living without passion is just dying a different kind of death.'" Diana left it at that, she had said her piece. There was nothing more she could say to him. All Diana could do was pray to Aphrodite that he would listen to her. She wondered what her goddesses thought of her right now, so emotional over a man.

Bruce carefully weighed everything she had said. It seemed that no matter what he did, he was going to hurt her as well as himself. If he pushed her away, it hurt. If he continued the game, he hurt. The only thing that he could do that wouldn't hurt would be to give in to her. He would have to really mean it, though, and not go back on his word. Was he prepared to take such a radical step? Bruce knew the answer immediately. He was just so tired of fighting against his instincts. He was tired of resisting her. He needed this.

"Diana, look at me," he said. She returned her gaze to him. "I love you. Can you ever forgive me for being such a fool?"

"I love you, Bruce. And yes, I can. I'd forgive you a thousand times if it meant ending up here with you again."

They sealed their pact with another long kiss, this one slower and much more tender. When they finally broke for air, Bruce said "What's next?"

"Well, I really don't want to stay in my cold, lonely watchtower bedroom. Can I borrow yours?" she teased, running her hands all over his body.

A flood of sexual desires overwhelmed his mind. "Any time you like, Princess," he said, cupping her impossibly smooth cheek. "But first, we really need to get cleaned up. We're covered in bruises."

She nodded, and then separated himself from him. This time, she knew that their parting would not be for very long at all.

Bruce extended his hand, beckoning her. She accepted it, intertwining their fingers. Hand in hand, they walked peacefully over to the medical section of the cave.

 **Author's Notes: I really enjoyed writing this fic, and I may continue it. One possibility is to add a second chapter, exploring their intimate activities. And/or, possibly, some other chapters that show important snapshots of their relationship. Sadly, I'm a lot better at writing conflict than fluff, so we'll see if I'm up to it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: This chapter is where this fic gets extremely sexually graphic. Mature readers only. You have been warned.**

 **I don't own the characters or Justice League, etc.**

Bruce pulled aside the cloth partition that separated the rest of the Batcave from the medical area. Before him was a scene that looked like a miniature hospital. There were several gurneys, stands with monitoring equipment, and rows of shelves containing every medical device conceivable _. I've needed most of it, at one point or another,_ he thought wryly.

"Hop up, Princess," he said, patting a gurney with his hand that wasn't locked in a vice-like grip.

"No. I'll heal. Fast." Diana said, a hard look on her features.

Bruce smiled. "You remind me of…well…me. So obstinate," he answered, stroking her cheek.

"I told you, we're more alike than you think," Diana said, mirroring his smile.

"Well then. Consider it a personal favor."

Diana glanced at the gurney for a moment, then back again. "Alright," she said, "but then it's your turn." She released his hand, hopping aboard the metal table.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Bruce went to the cabinet and retrieved a metal box. It contained all the necessary tools for cleaning and dressing wounds. He removed a bottle of iodine and some bandages before turning to inspect Diana's. She had a split lip, slashes on her arms and legs from his gauntlet spikes, as well as a few scratches from some bats that she didn't quite escape. Their filthy claws would likely give her an infection, left untreated.

A pang of guilt shot through him. Despite her cavalier attitude towards wounds, high tolerance for pain, and magical healing, he still worried about her. Bruce wanted make her more comfortable, especially considering the fact that he had done this to her. Rationally, he understood that she wouldn't hold a grudge against him and that she would be fine. If it were anyone else, he would have let it go.

"Close your mouth," he said before pouring the bottle over the oral cut.

When he finished, she spat some of the orange liquid on the floor. "You could've warned me that would sting."

"This, coming from the woman who just popped her arm back into its socket with barely a sound?" Bruce smirked.

She crossed her arms in indignation. "Still…" she pouted.

"Let's see those arms."

Diana held out her limbs in acquiescence, allowing Bruce to silently begin his work of cleaning and dressing her wounds. He was characteristically deliberate and precise. Yet, his touch was also very tender. Careful. Loving. This fact did not go unnoticed by the amazon, aware that he spoke more with hands than he ever could with his voice. She didn't mind. Bruce was a man of action, a trait that she could respect. Diana had always held actions in a higher regard than words. Had that not been true, she doubted she would have brazenly stolen her mother's armor and left to protect man's world against Hippolyta's wishes.

Once, she would have viewed his insistence on treating her as an insult. It was a different time, one that she was now embarrassed of. Diana quickly became lost in thought, musing on the radical changes her life had had over the past few years.

"Want some painkiller?" Bruce questioned. He pulled back, his work evidently completed.

She shook her head, clearing herself of her reverie. "I'm good, thanks. It wouldn't work anyway; my physiology is too resistant to drugs."

He nodded. It made sense. "Now, about those burns," he whispered, lightly brushing her abdomen. Their eyes met. "Only if you're comfortable with that, of course," he quickly amended.

She laughed. Truth be told, she was somewhat uncomfortable with the idea of laying her body bare before a man in that way. On Themiscyra, such an act would be considered sacrilege. Then again, many things that she had been told had lately turned out to be false. She mulled over the lingering doubts in her mind and came to decision.

In answer, Diana silently peeled the top portion of her uniform off, letting it pool around her hips. Her eyes met Bruce's gaze, bidding him to behold her form.

He was completely enthralled by what he saw before him, the breath stolen from his lungs. Her breasts were perfectly shaped, just like the rest of her proportions, from her tapered waist to her strong, yet confoundingly feminine shoulders. And that skin! It appeared so soft and radiant, perfectly smooth, unmarred by any imperfections. He half-imagined that his eyes could feel it just by looking at her. Bruce practically caressed her with his gaze, drinking in the sight of her beauty. His heart picked up speed, his arousal skyrocketing.

The wounds on her sides and stomach also caught his attention. Burn marks marred almost that entire section of her body. Luckily, the wounds weren't charred and black. They were extremely red and irritated, though. The second-degree burns did absolutely nothing to diminish his opinion of her. In fact, they only increased his regard for Diana, a solemn testament to her resilience and strong spirit.

Meanwhile, Diana's heart also pounded, the normally calm and collected warrior nervous despite herself. She blushed, tucking a lock of raven hair behind her ear. Her questioning eyes searched for any kind of reaction from Bruce.

She didn't even understand how gorgeous she was, he realized. "Diana…" he uttered, at a loss for words. At the same time, Bruce undid the clasps of his gauntlets. He touched her hands to his bare ones for the first time. "You're so beautiful."

Suddenly all of Diana's nervousness disappeared, replaced by desire that overcame her mind, ripping away her inhibitions. She snatched his hands in hers and pulled them towards her breasts. "Then touch me," she breathlessly pleaded. Even her begs somehow had the air of a command to them.

Bruce needed no further encouragement. His hands shot out, immediately cupping her beautiful breasts. Instantly she let out a small moan. They felt so right in his grasp. _If that set her off, she should see what I'm going to do next,_ Bruce told himself. Although he loved the feel of her in his hands, he couldn't suppress the sudden desire to make her feel good, to elicit more delicious moans from her. Bruce began circling her nipples with his thumbs. She responded with a louder moan, her back arching with pleasure. "Oh gods, yes…" she whispered, pulling his head towards her. Bruce leaned over her, his lips happily meeting Diana's.

What could only be described as electric fire surged through her body, awakening centuries of pent-up lust. It was pure pleasure, and it gathered like a maelstrom around her upper chest and between her thighs. Diana had no idea how to deal with these feelings other than to close her eyes and bask in the sensations she was experiencing.

Bruce roamed her entire upper body, testing her reactions to various stimuli. He seemed like a scientist experimenting upon an (admittedly eager) specimen. He caressed her here, touched her there, trying different methods of pleasing her circular nubs. Sometimes he tried combinations of several things to see what she liked the most. Always, he concentrated on savoring the feel of her in his hands.

Diana put her hands on his chest, finding nothing but the cold material of his armor. The barrier infuriated her; she needed to reciprocate, and if she didn't get a chance soon, she felt as if she would go crazy.

"Armor. Off," she sternly commanded.

Bruce was just about to start sucking on her nipple when her order stopped him like a brick wall. That could be saved for later. "Right…" he said, pulling away from her. "Let me get some salve for those burns too."

He turned away from her and began striding over to the medical cabinets. Suddenly a blast of force struck him from behind, flipping him around. It was Diana. Her hands protectively braced his head and back as she crashed into him, slamming him against the shelves.

As expensive medical gear rained down around them, she molded her body perfectly against his. She kissed him forcefully. He returned all of this with great enthusiasm, one hand stroking her side while he pressed his lips against hers and deepened the kiss.

At the same time, Bruce's other hand shot out lightning fast, blindly catching a falling jar of green gel. Without breaking the action, he scooped some of the contents and rubbed them into her burns.

Minutes later when the kiss was broken, she breathlessly remarked, "That felt good. And I'm not just talking about the aloe." She winked teasingly at him. "Now, let's get you out of that armor." Her voice was dripping with an almost predatory hunger.

"Yes, Princess," Bruce rasped, his throat dry as a desert. He undid the secret seams in his armor. Diana observed him intently, growing impatient. She began mirroring his actions all over him, ripping his armor off with desperation. Bruce assisted her just as urgently, their hands fumbling chaotically as he attempted to guide her.

He was quickly reduced to his underclothes. Diana pressed herself even deeper into his embrace, loving the feel of her skin against his. Bruce's body was statuesque to her, a tribute to Adonis himself. She ran her hands over him, enjoying the feel of his broad frame and chiseled muscles.

She tugged at his arm, leading him to the gurney. "Your turn," she said insistently. Bruce complied, hopping aboard with a smile. Diana practically leaped on top of him a moment later. The sexy amazon princess straddled him, continuing her examination of his form. Her face bore a curious expression, which was hardly a surprise to Bruce. She was uninitiated to the bare male body, he knew. Bruce sat back, content to patiently let her explore him.

He scrutinized her expression, looking for any clue as to her reaction. She was seeing his skin for the first time, seeing that his chest and arms were a horrible mass of scars, old bruises, burn marks, and more. Although he did not doubt her enthusiasm for their relationship, he feared that she would be disgusted when confronted with the ugliness of his life. Here she was, a perfect immortal, gazing upon the evidence of the harsh realities of mortality. He was sure that Diana would find him pathetic and weak, too damaged to be worthy of her love. He didn't blame her.

Her jaw fell open in shock, and he braced himself for rejection. Bruce was utterly shocked by her response, however. She leaned over him, her fingers gliding over the rough tissue. They finally settled upon the object of their search: his biggest scar. Without hesitation, she feathered her lips over it. "Bruce…they're amazing."

He felt ashamed for underestimating her character, for expecting arrogance and superficiality from her. Although she didn't know about it, he was still determined to absolve himself of his sin. He ran his fingers through her midnight hair.

A moment later, she pulled up from his body so that she could face him. Despite the intimacy between them, his inquisitive mind just had to know something. "Why?" he asked her.

Diana smiled. "Because, I'm jealous."

The notion was unthinkable to him. His face must have been an expression of pure confusion, because she chuckled at him. It was angelic.

Sensing his silent request for an explanation, she continued. "We amazons regard scars with a great deal of respect," she said, her fingers following the lines of his scars as she went on. "They symbolize a well-deserved victory, or a harsh lesson learned in defeat. Either way, scars are a badge to be worn proudly. My magical blessing of healing prevents me from possessing any." This last remark was spoken with a pang of sadness to her voice, Bruce noticed.

It was then that he understood. Diana felt alienated from mortals, and more so from her own people, due to her powers. She didn't look down upon mortals with disdain after all. If anything, Diana viewed herself as the freak, not him. Truly, he had been foolish to expect so much less of her. Bruce's admiration and love for her swelled like a tidal wave. For the second time that night, her assessment that they were birds of a feather was confirmed.

He could only imagine how terrible it must be for her to be exiled from her native culture, living in a world where she was an oddity, where there was little she could find in common with most people. Diana was just as alone as he was.

Bruce shot forward, capturing his lips with hers again. She moaned into his mouth. Their tongues dueled as the heat between them rose, their hands wandering freely once again.

Suddenly, she pulled out of the kiss and moved her attention to his chest once more. She planted her lips on every scar she could find, as if she thought she could eliminate the memory of the pain those scars had caused. His body came alive at her touch, imprints of heat lingering on his skin where she had been. Diana was exceptionally gentle, even circling the bruises she had given him earlier.

Eventually her journey drifted lower and lower, until she could not ignore the obvious tent that was forming in his underclothes. She fixed her gaze on it, clearly interested. Bruce could barely contain his lust, but he held himself in check. He knew that this was a big step for Diana, and he wanted to let her explore him at her own pace.

She glanced up at him, a finger bravely toying with the hem of his underwear. He nodded almost imperceptibly at her in response. She could see the desire in his eyes. Diana deliberately ripped the garment down, causing his member to spring free.

Diana's eyes went wide. She licked her lips slowly without even realizing it. Bruce almost lost control upon seeing her barely contained desire, his member twitching violently.

"Can I touch it?" she asked innocently.

He had to stifle a laugh at her sexual naiveté, not wanting to her to feel embarrassed. "Please," he growled with more desperation than he had intended. Despite the urgency of his need, Bruce was more than a little nervous. He had seen these hands stop a speeding missile and rip solid metal. Even so, the disparity that was before him between her sweet side and her strong will only drove him to new heights of arousal.

Diana sensed his unease and resolved herself to put his fears to rest. She reached out and stroked him softly, causing a spasm of pleasure to wrack his body. Unsure of the meaning of his reaction, she asked "does that feel good?" A worried expression visited her face.

"Yes…" Bruce moaned.

Diana began to stroke him more insistently, eventually curling her hand all the way around him. He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes in response. It had been a long time since had experienced anything close to this with another person, and he had forgotten what it was like.

"It's so long…and warm…and hard," she practically moaned along with him. Her expression belied her fascination as well. Diana instinctively attempted a pumping motion, settling into a powerful rhythm rather quickly. His increasingly deep breaths egged her on, causing her to pump him harder and faster. Diana's thumb teased his head, finding the sensitive spots that brought him the most pleasure.

In almost no time at all, her strong grip was about to make him climax. Molten pleasure was building up inside his groin, threatening to cascade over the point of no return at any time. "Diana…" he grunted, "I'm so close."

She smiled a sweet smile at him that was somehow also devious. "Yeah?" she questioned, her voice lustful. She increased the intensity of her ministrations.

Her eagerness drove him over the edge. Bruce was more attracted to her now than he had ever been to anyone ever before, more into this than he had believed was possible. "Don't stop…please," he said, his mind shutting off. Diana continued the merciless pace, causing him to tip over the edge, muscles spasming as unbearable pleasure shot through his whole body.

Bruce spilled himself into the air, making a mess. Diana twitched a little in surprise, but seemed not to mind. She stroked a few more times, squeezing out every last drop, wanting his pleasure to last as long as possible as she smiled up at him. Eventually, she grabbed a rag from the kit, using it to clean them up.

As Bruce came down from his high, chest heaving, he felt her curl seductively against his side. Diana's head settled comfortably into the crook of his neck. "Was it good?" she whispered against his skin, sending goosebumps racing across his flesh.

"More than you know," he emphatically answered. "Yet…" One of Diana's eyebrows shot up in confusion. "I can show you what it felt like," he provided.

She loved the sound of that, and had a pretty good idea of what he had in mind. "Mmmmm…", she seductively purred. "I like the sound of that."

Bruce hooked her legs with his, discovering that Diana had completely removed her uniform. He could feel the heat emanating from her core on his thigh and had to restrain himself from immediately groping her there and plunging his fingers deep inside.

With a swift motion, Bruce flipped her on her back, placing himself on top. It was his turn to take her pleasure in his hands. They met for another kiss, gasping for air when they pulled away. He immediately began creating a winding path of kisses all over her body. His passion was ignited, wanting to show his love by putting his lips on every part of her.

Tantalizingly slow for them both, he worked his way down her body. She knew where he wanted to go. Diana opened her legs for him. Surprisingly, he didn't go straight where she thought he would. Instead, he began to caress the inside of her thighs, coming closer and closer to her center every time. Bruce teased her, never actually touching the place where they both wanted him to the most. It was wonderful agony.

"Bruce," she breathed. Enough was enough, they were getting bored with this torture. He ran his fingers over her pretty folds, tracing patterns and shapes. Diana quivered slightly, taking in a gasp of air. He glanced up at her in concern. "It's okay," she said, running her fingers slowly through his hair. "That's nice…" she moaned.

Bruce rubbed her folds a little more firmly. Diana was soaking wet at this point, her juices running down her legs and pooling on the gurney below her. He inserted a finger into her. She was like a hot, wet furnace. Her walls were velvety smooth and this fact excited him to no end. He began alternating between fingering her and stroking the inside of her passage. She let out a chain of soft sighs. Bruce began increasing his speed and inserting more fingers, raising the volume of Diana's sighs. Her pleasure began to seriously build when he circled her clitoris with his thumb, teasing her most sensitive spot delicately as his free hand reached up to tweak one of her nipples. Slowly he increased his pressure on Diana's clit, causing her to let out a stream of constant, throaty moans.

Every single nerve in the Amazon's body was ablaze, thrumming with unadulterated pleasure. It was as if they were the strings of some musical instrument, and Bruce was playing her skillfully, building the song of her pleasure into a crescendo. The crescendo reached its peak when Bruce put his head between her legs, sucking firmly on her clit while his fingers curled repeatedly against the roof of her tunnel. Waves of pleasure rocked her entire body, causing her to convulse and quiver violently. She released her grip on him, squeezing the sides of the table instead. She could feel the explosion coming; in under a minute it would be unavoidable.

"Oh goddess, Bruce," Diana said breathlessly between moans, "please…its…oh…so wonderful." Suddenly she tipped over the edge, her back arched, hair a sexy mess, a wordless scream on her lips. She rode the waves of her intense orgasm, practically drowning in the feeling. Thankfully, she didn't have to ride it out alone. Bruce was there for her, steadying Diana with his firm grasp as she shook with pleasure.

Her eyes were closed for a long time, but Bruce was content to just watch her. In fact, he delighted in the act, loving to see her this way. She never looked more beautiful than she did just then, a sweaty, mewling mess.

Diana finally opened her eyes, a slight amount of wetness gracing them. "You're so beautiful when you cum," he told her.

A wide smile graced her features. "Thank you, Bruce. That was…it was awesome. You're even better at that than Artemis."

Bruce's jaw dropped. Diana let out a belly laugh, causing him to join her. "So," he said between chuckles, "that IS what you amazons do on that island of yours."

Diana shrugged her shoulders. "We needed something to bet on our frequent sparing matches. She always lost."

Bruce conjured images of Diana grappling another slightly less gorgeous amazon into submission and sitting on her face, the alpha female. "If you want, we could make the same agreement for our matches." He couldn't help but think that he would be happy to lose to her, in that case.

"Done," she said without hesitation. "Just remember, I'm going to hold you to that." Diana shivered slightly.

"You know; I do have a nice warm bed upstairs. Still want to borrow it?"

"Please."

It took the couple a long time to pull away from the embrace of one another. Eventually, they dressed themselves, stealing glances at each other constantly. This time, Bruce wore normal clothes instead of his costume, Diana still in hers. "Do you want a dress or something?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No thanks. Besides, I don't think I'll be wearing it long," she flirted. "Right?" she followed up, hopeful.

He shook his head. "I don't think so," he flirted back with a smirk. Bruce moved over to her, picking up Diana.

"Hey, what are you doing? You know I can fly us up there, right?" she mock protested.

"Yeah, but this is more fun," Bruce said, his arms supporting her knees and back.

"That's true," Diana answered, nuzzling her head against his chest. Bruce walked them up the stairs and to the bedroom that awaited.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: More explicit sex again. I don't own the characters.**

Bruce and Diana hadn't even made it to the top of the stairs out of the Batcave before their lips found each other again. To be fair, it was mostly her fault. She had kept caressing him and doing other extremely naughty things with her hands while he desperately tried to return her affections without dropping her. The result was a clumsy, stumbling mess and an Amazon who delighted at Bruce's consternation.

Bumping into walls, tables, and other objects, Bruce eventually brought the two of them to his master bedroom. He hoped that Alfred was deep in slumber, and that he would remain so during the noise that was likely going to occur next.

Their lips still locked, the couple collapsed onto Bruce's king-sized bed. They didn't even break the kiss as they rolled around, playfully fighting for dominance as they frantically stripped off each other's garments. At the same time, their hands constantly found opportunities to caress or squeeze, which would cause one of them to moan into the other's mouth. Soon, Bruce and Diana's clothes were strewn haphazardly all over the bed and floor.

Diana pulled herself up and re-adjusted her position so that she could prop herself up on the pillows. Her pitch black hair was a sultry mess, her skin glistening with arousal sweat. She closed her thighs, bringing them in close to her body protectively.

Bruce appeared beside her, placing a rough hand on the outside of her soft leg, stroking it gently. He examined her carefully, gauging if she was ready for the next step or not. Bruce saw hesitation there, embarrassment even. He was so gripped with passion at that moment that words escaped him. His first thought was to pull apart those gorgeous legs so that he could have his way with her. Instead he just hovered over her, patiently staring into her luscious, blue eyes.

Meanwhile, Diana was waging an internal war within herself. Although she had come a long way from hating men like the rest of her people, she was having trouble overcoming her deep-seated mental conditioning with regards to sex. What they were about to do, what she was about to let him (a man of all things!), do to her, went against everything she had been taught as a young girl on Themiscyra and had been indoctrinated with well into her adulthood. Echoes of the hateful misandrist rhetoric that had been drilled into her reverberated through her psyche. Diana remembered, in gruesome detail, the foul descriptions of sex that she had been supplied with; how it was an obscene thing, a defilement of the female form by an evil, selfish, lesser being. It was an act completely devoid of love.

Yet in that moment, as she basked in Bruce's obvious love, admiration, and respect, she realized that those descriptions could not be farther from the truth. For the life of her, she could not imagine how anyone in their right mind could possibly mistake what she and Bruce had for something ugly. What they had was a beautiful thing, something to be treasured and celebrated. To know that her sisters and mother would have her cast something this special aside like garbage disgusted her.

Slowly, Diana parted her thighs for him, her eyes never leaving his. Even through the haze of lust, Bruce could well imagine the thoughts that must have been swirling around in her head. He understood the significance of what she had just done, and was committed to proving himself worthy of her trust. It was the least he could have done in return, having trusted Diana with his fragile emotions.

Bruce was on top of her in moments, their bodies molding together once again. "Are you sure about this, Princess?" he asked, unable to keep the uncharacteristic concern out of his voice. Diana slowly nodded her head in reply.

He rubbed himself slowly on her entrance, their most sensitive body parts creating sparks of pleasure. Bruce was rock hard and Diana was dripping wet. The lovers were more than physiologically ready, however. The anticipation was driving both mad with desire. They panted and moaned into the other's necks, sending shivers down their spines. Even as they tried to savor the moment, their animalistic instincts were rapidly taking over.

They became desperate, unthinking in their desire to share the most intimate connection possible. Their grinding intensified, a delicious tease for them both. It was becoming harder and harder by the moment to keep this game going.

"Bruce," Diana moaned into his ear, nails scraping his back. "I want you".

Spurred on by Diana, Bruce lined himself up and began to push inside of her. Even with his legendary willpower, he could not completely resist the urge to sheathe himself all the way inside her in one motion. Luckily, he didn't need to. She wrapped her legs around him and met his thrust with one of her own, bringing him in up to the hilt instantly.

Simultaneously, their eyes closed and their necks arched, unable to process the heavenly feelings they were experiencing. Diana was so silky smooth and tight inside, squeezing him in all the right ways, setting his nerves ablaze. He was so firm and large, and although it had hurt at first, when the pain faded Diana decided that Bruce was stretching her perfectly and hitting spots of pleasure she didn't even know she had.

"Diana…" Bruce whispered, "You feel…so fucking good." Diana didn't reply. She seemed a bit indecisive, still adjusting to the feel of him inside of her. He wanted to give her more time, knowing that he must've hurt her at first. Bruce felt guilty and decided to make up for it. He nibbled gently on her ear. He kissed, licked, and sucked on her neck, particularly the sensitive spots he had found earlier that night. Bruce's hands found her breasts and circled her nipples, waning to help her feel even more relaxed and show her how much he loved her.

Diana moaned and wiggled her hips. "Oh Hera, Bruce. It's amazing!" she said breathlessly, a wide grin forming on her lips as her eyelids fluttered with passion.

The couple smiled at each other, overcome by the intense love they were feeling in that moment. They brought their noses in to nuzzle each other, their foreheads meeting as well so that they could gaze completely into the other's eyes.

Time seemed to stop as Bruce and Diana basked in the intimacy of the moment. It was a perfect moment. It felt like it was exactly what they had been awaiting for so long, felt like they had each found their missing counterpart, felt as if they belonged intimately connected like this in each other's arms.

Without a doubt, Bruce would rather be nowhere else in the whole world than right there, right then with Diana, nestled deep inside her passage, completely surrounded by her. Diana felt the same way; she couldn't think of anything she wanted more than to be with Bruce in this instant, completely filled by him.

They shared a long, quiet moment of appreciating the connection they had just made. Yet, it wasn't good enough. Soon the lovers got antsy, their lustful instincts screaming at them to move and thrust. Bruce couldn't resist withdrawing just slightly before nestling back in to the same spot deep within her. Diana squirmed a bit when he did so. She stretched out his name in a long whimper, grinding against him, showing him that she wanted more. Bruce immediately decided that her pleasurable sounds were somehow even more musical and beautiful than her laughter, if such a thing was even possible.

Bruce pulled out a little bit more this time, then gently thrusted back in again. He could feel every single one of Diana's contours, her ridges sending bolts of hot pleasure through his body. He growled uncontrollably into her ear.

Evidently, it felt good for her too. "Don't stop Bruce. It feels…" Diana whispered before descending into a chain of light moans again. She began wantonly thrusting her hips back at him, increasing the intensity of their lovemaking.

Soon he was withdrawing almost all of the way out of her, then thrusting all the way back in. They set a slow but strong rhythm that occasionally grew a little faster or harder. Every now and then, Bruce would mix it up by suddenly changing the speed, force, or depth of his penetration. Although he knew that pounding himself wildly into her over and over would bring him the most pleasure, he wanted to learn what she liked most. He wanted to please her to the best of his ability. Whenever he found a particular angle or rhythm that made her moan louder, he repeated it over and over, brutally assaulting her sensitive nerves with overwhelming pleasure.

By now Diana had stopped running her hands all over his body, instead gripping him extremely tightly to steady herself. Afraid of the possibility of her losing control of her strength in the midst of passion, he gripped her wrists in his hands. Realizing why Bruce was doing that, she eased up and let him do as he willed. Without missing a beat in his thrusts, he held her wrists down on either side of her head, completely pinning her. It was a position that also had the added bonus of letting them be even closer and kiss while they made love. They didn't squander the opportunity.

Diana suddenly let out a string of garbled words that were drowned out by her other vocalizations. However, Bruce was pretty sure he heard the words "don't", "stop", and "cum", followed by his name.

Bruce's own climax was fast approaching, and Diana's was too if the way she was thrashing was any indication. He couldn't help himself; he began pounding into her with all the speed and force that he could muster.

Diana came hard. It was an eyes-rolling-into-head, limb quivering, back arching, wordless scream orgasm. Bruce attempted to hold on, but when her passage contracted all around him he was thrown forcefully over the edge. He was in a world of ecstasy as he shot spurt after spurt of his essence into his gorgeous amazon lover.

Drained of energy, he collapsed on top of her. The couple held each other tight, trying to catch their second wind after such a physically and emotionally tiring experience. Eventually, Diana rolled the two of them onto their sides. Looking straight into his eyes, she nervously asked "Was I good?"

Although she suspected that she already knew the answer, lingering doubts remained. Bruce was no stranger to the realm of sex, and had likely slept with many, many women. How could she, a virgin, compare to any of them?

Taken aback by the absurdity of the question, Bruce seized her and nuzzled into the crook of her neck. "Diana, you were perfect. That was the best experience of my life," he whispered. "I love you so much." He didn't know what else to say, didn't know how to properly describe his gratitude and satisfaction.

It was enough for her. She sensed his deeper emotions the way that only she could. "Really?" she questioned. Diana pushed him away so that they could talk face to face. "Then…let's do it again." An impossibly cute, sheepish smile appeared on her lips.

Bruce instantly grew hard inside of her at the notion of a second round. She giggled in response. "If you say so, Princess," he said, feigning boredom.

He rolled onto his back, putting her on top of him. It was time for a change of pace, and Bruce wanted to see how she reacted to this new situation.

Intrigued, Diana sat upright, straddling him. She steadied her palms on his chest, experimentally bobbing her hips. Liking the result and growing in confidence, she began to ride him feverishly.

This is going be a long night, Bruce hopefully thought.

He was not disappointed; their lovemaking continued well into the early morning. By the time they were depleted, minds fried with pleasure, the sun was beginning to rise.

I'll have to cancel my business meeting today, Bruce thought wryly.

He couldn't even remember the number of times they'd actually done it, but he was pretty sure it was a lot. It was all just a blissful blur of passion. Yet, he wouldn't have had it any other way.

He was on his back, Diana curled lovingly into his side. Her head rested on his upper chest, where she could feel his heartbeat. She liked that. One of her hands played with his scars, the other hand entangled with one of his. Bruce stroked her mane slowly. Silken bedsheets covered them.

Bruce would have been perfectly happy to watch Diana sleep, counting her breaths and stroking her hair like that. But the comforting embrace of sleep was approaching him quickly, and it seemed like it was coming for her too.

With a startling realization, he knew that this kind of peace was all he had ever truly wanted. Ever since he met Diana, he had also wanted her to be the one he shared it with. Bruce just hadn't known it until now.

In fact, the sting of his parent's deaths had, for the first time in thirty years, been completely forgotten.

Yet, a few concerns nagged at him from the back of his mind. Bruce wanted to have this with her, every night. But there would be some obstacles to that kind of relationship, problems going beyond their mutual dedication to justice.

"You know I can't date you publically as Mr. Wayne, right? I can't give you a normal relationship. I'll have to dance with other women. But my heart only has room for you, Princess. I promise you that. I want to be with you like this, always. I…need you in my life. I need you so much, Diana."

She didn't answer right away. A tense silence hung in the air and Bruce grew nervous. He wouldn't blame her if she wanted this to be a one-time thing, even though the thought physically hurt his heart.

Diana smirked, the gesture unseen to him. Evenly, she replied "I know, and I don't care. I don't want a normal relationship. I want you. And I do forgive you, Bruce. I…I want the same thing." Suddenly, she choked up a little. "It would make me so happy," she finished, cuddling deeper into his embrace. He felt teardrops on his skin.

"Thank you, Princess, for everything. I love you so much."

"And I love you, whether you're Batman, Bruce, or Mr. Wayne," she said, kissing his pecs for emphasis in between words.

Bruce drifted peacefully off into slumber. And for once, there were no nightmares waiting for him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: Just a quick little update for you guys. As usual, I don't own the characters, or Justice League.**

A dull thudding noise summoned Bruce from the depths of sleep. He groaned, tossing and turning, eyelids fluttering. The noise continued insistently; it seemed to be coming from the door to his master bedroom. He did not need his razor sharp detective skills to unravel this mystery. Clearly Alfred was trying to get him up for that business meeting he had today.

"Sir, you're late for your meeting with the board. I have breakfast. Are you decent?"

Bruce registered the words but they did not make sense. Why was he late? He usually never had a problem getting up in time on his own. And why did he feel such a lingering exhaustion despite having apparently just slept in?

With a start, he recalled the tumultuous events of the night before. Was all this real, or just fantasy? He glanced to his right. The bed was empty. He pulled the covers aside, but she still wasn't there.

"Diana?" he said, somewhat frantically.

"I'm here," a majestic voice emanated from the bathroom. A moment later, he heard the sound of rushing water, followed by Diana stepping out in all her naked glory. He smiled in spite of himself, feeling foolish for doubting it for one moment.

He slid sideways, peeling the covers away in an invitation for her to join him again. As she strode over and hopped in, she couldn't help but notice his eyes roaming all over her body. Diana smirked and felt herself flush with heat.

Bruce threw the covers over them, being sure they completely covered Diana's beautiful breasts. "Alfred's here," he said in explanation. "It's alright. Come on in," he called through the door.

Bruce couldn't help but wrap one arm around her. She happily leaned into his embrace, resting her head against his shoulder.

Alfred opened the door, expertly balancing a tray of food on one hand. "Some breakfast, sir…" he began, suddenly seeing Diana there in the bed with him. In spite of his unflappable manner, Alfred actually recoiled in shock, almost dropping the tray in the process. With the stoic dedication that was apparently inborn in British butlers, he reset his expression to one of calm demeanor. "Oh. Well then. I suppose I should fetch another tray for the Princess."

"That would be great, Alfred. Thank you," Diana said with a smile of gratitude. "Oh, and please call me 'Diana'". Strangely enough, she felt protective of that title, wanting only her Bruce to call her that even though she knew it was a pet name, and not used out of respect to her status. This possessive feeling was a new and confusing one, but not wholly unpleasant. She furrowed her brow in puzzlement. Then again, she could have said the same about many emotions she'd had last night.

"Duly noted," Alfred replied curtly before setting the tray on a table and returning to the kitchen to fetch another.

Bruce glanced at the clock. It was 12:03 p.m. He'd missed the appointment by more than an hour. It wasn't a huge disaster, though. He was the CEO of Wayne Enterprises after all, and this kind of tardiness had become habitual for his character anyway. It was almost expected of him.

He turned back to his Princess, their eyes meeting. Bruce could sense that she was very happy, satisfied with the events of the previous night. So was he, but he was pretty sure she knew that already.

Before they knew what they were doing, their lips met for a light kiss. Bruce broke it almost immediately. "I'm sorry, Princess. I don't have time for this. You heard Alfred."

"Indeed," she said, stroking his arm. "I should get back to the watchtower. They'll probably be wondering where I am since I rarely leave, aside from official business. Besides, I have things to do as well."

Bruce nodded. "You know you're always welcome here, right?"

"I know." She feathered a kiss on his cheek. "When can we…I mean, when can I see you again?"

Bruce desperately wanted to tell her 'tonight', but that would be a lie. He had things to do. In fact, they both knew that saying they could be together most nights was extremely unrealistic.

"I don't know. But I promise you, I'll do my best to make time."

She nodded. There wasn't much else to say. Alfred returned with the food and they ate quickly before dressing, he in a suit and she in her uniform again. They gave each other a quick kiss goodbye. Bruce climbed inside the limo and Alfred took him to Wayne Tower for the meeting. Diana let herself out by means of the teleporter in the Batcave.

Bruce sat comfortably in the luxury vehicle, reviewing some important documents. The car ride was oddly silent, considering that he expected at least some kind of remark from Alfred. When the limo pulled up in front of Wayne Tower and the stoic butler still hadn't said anything, he wasn't sure whether or not to take Alfred's silence as a sign of disappointment.

"We're here sir."

Bruce chuckled. "So, Alfred…aren't you going to warn me to be careful with her?" he asked, adjusting his tie.

"Not at all, master Bruce." His brows furrowed in confusion. "I very well know that you wouldn't do anything untoward, or take advantage of her inexperience in any way. You're a good man. You were raised properly, if I do say so. Instead, I elected to warn her to be careful with you."

Bruce nodded in agreement; he could understand his Butler's reasoning. "Thank you, Alfred." He'd thanked the older man countless times, but he never meant it more sincerely than he did now.

"I'm just doing my due diligence to you, sir." Although Alfred's tone was completely professional, Bruce knew that he did it for a deeper reason than because he signed his paychecks. Alfred has always been there for him, his most devout supporter at great personal sacrifice. He couldn't have asked for a better friend.

"I love her, Alfred." He didn't know why he suddenly felt like sharing so much. "And it's not like Talia, or any of the others. This is much more real; I can feel it."

Bruce could have sworn he saw a slight smile crack though the Butler's visage in the mirror. "I'm glad sir. As you're well aware, I've been telling you for years that there's room in there for you too, and not just Batman."

Bruce nodded. "I know. And thank you for not giving up on me," he said, stepping out of the vehicle.

For the second time in one 24-hour period, Diana stepped off of a teleporter pad, motes of sparkling energy and that soft, whirring noise surrounding her. This time, she was in the watchtower.

All sorts of Justice League members were splashed around the room, conversing as well as arriving from or departing for missions. Superman hovered near the ceiling, overseeing it all. Although he didn't possess the super intellect necessary to process the constant stream of League-related data as J'ohn could, he had become somewhat an overseer of the watchtower. He was a very protective and concerned person, always sticking his nose into other people's business to make sure they were ok. In a way it was endearing, but Diana found it annoying most of the time.

"Diana!" Superman exclaimed, landing in front of her. "Where have you been? J'ohn said you left early this morning."

"I've been attending to some…personal business," she said, unsure how comfortable Bruce would be with their love life being well-known. For that matter, she wasn't sure how she felt about that notion either. Diana wondered how this kind of subject was supposed to be handled.

Superman scanned her, taking notice of her bruises. They were somewhat healed already, the color mostly gone at this point. Her cuts were barely noticeable as well. Still, she hadn't had the evidence of these wounds when she'd left. It was enough to disturb the man of steel.

"Are you ok?" he asked, gesturing to the slight bruises.

"Yes, Superman. I'm fine." she said, crossing her arms in annoyance.

Clark's mind raced at the possibilities. Had she run into trouble and was dodging his questions because she was embarrassed of something getting the better of her? She hadn't actually experienced that much of man's world yet, only viewing it from the perspective of a superhero or an ambassador. Anything could have happened down there.

"I don't mean to pry, but where were you?"

"I already told you," Diana answered, her irritation growing.

Clark glanced at the nearby control console. "Those are the coordinates to the Batcave teleporter! Did Batman do this to you?"

She sighed, conscious of the direction this line of questioning was headed in.

"Why did he…I mean, I swear...what happened?!" he asked, his mind desperately trying to reconcile this information. "If he hurt you…" Clark continued, anger pulsing in his voice.

"Relax. We just had a sparring session after the gala, that's all. We were a little rough with each other, if I'm being honest. If you're so concerned, you should be talking with him. I'm pretty sure I gave him at least one cracked rib."

"So you were sparring for…let's see…10 hours?" Clark asked, flabbergasted. She seemed well rested despite herself, so that didn't add up. Unless…

"Did you…" Superman started to blurt out.

"It's none of your business," Diana said sharply, staring daggers at him.

"Look, I'm just worried about you. I know he's a good guy, but he's…complicated. Be careful, Diana."

"Believe me, I know." With that, Diana walked off. As she did so, Clark heard the amazon humming some strange tune he didn't recognize. He stood there for a long time, scratching his head as he contemplated the monumental discovery.

 **Author's note: I probably should have said this sooner, but I wanted to say, thanks everyone who reviewed or favorited or followed this story. It means a lot to me. It really does, especially since I poured a lot of heart and soul and emotions into this. Especially the first chapter.**

 **Secondly, there's something else I should probably explain. I'm going to be doing random little snapshots of their relationship like I mentioned in the first chapter. Also, I've decided to build my own continuity here. Even though I marked the world as "cartoons", my writing is going to be inspired by characters and events from various continuities, such as the movies and the new 52 (though obviously I'm avoiding the pairing that shall not be named). So technically, you could consider this AU. I thought it might be wise to warn people who may not like that sort of thing.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: I just felt like doing a rapid update for you awesome fans because I was craving a chance to write more! I have so many ideas in my head, this could definitely become a longer, saga-like fic.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own...blah blah blah...**

 **WARNING: SPOILERS FOR "SON OF BATMAN"!**

A dark shadow passed over the equally dark skyline of Gotham, nearly invisible as it glided through quiet air. The shadow glinted with a dull, black sheen; high tech combat armor. A billowing cape flapped behind the creature, enveloping it when it landed on a perch. It had extremely pointy ears, like those of a bat, and a bat symbol adorned its muscular chest. It loomed over the streets and alleys of Gotham, seeming like a malicious specter.

Batman stalked across the rooftops, searching for any evidence of suspicious activity. It was early in the morning, about 4:15 by his estimate. Most likely, there wouldn't be any more criminals to apprehend, as the sun would start coming up soon. Batman had finished his patrol and already rounded up a good deal of criminals. Still, Gotham had been more quiet than usual lately. A major super villain or mafia boss was definitely planning something. Although it troubled him, Batman knew that whoever it was wouldn't make a big move this late in the night.

Even though he was done hunting for the night and could return to his cave, something kept the bat in the city. He had some thoughts buzzing around in his head, and wanted to share them with two special people.

The Dark Knight began slowly making his way to a specific place that was very special to him. It was common knowledge that this place was his private lair. Even the most hardened, foolhardy criminals rarely went there at night. The place was Crime Alley.

Grappling, leaping, gliding, climbing, and sneaking, Batman took a circuitous route. Earlier he had detected someone tailing him at a distance. Friend or foe, he did not want to lead them to his holy place either way. When he was sure that he had doubled back and changed routes enough, he finally approached his true destination. His keen senses told him that whoever it was, he had thrown them off of his trail.

There was a soft flutter, a thud, and a wet splash as he dropped down into the alleyway. He stood there silently, enveloped completely by his cape, examining the area as if to confirm that it was the same as he remembered it. It was a somewhat wide alley nestled between several derelict buildings and connected to three narrower paths.

He could remember the exact spot they had died. Even now, the macabre scene he had witnessed at the age of eight ghosted into his vision, superimposed over reality. He saw the bodies exactly as they had fallen, blood pooled around them, pearls scattered all over the ground, two empty pistol shells still smoking there among them.

"Mom…dad…" he said, a raspy voice filling the air. "I needed to talk to you. I just…I'm seeing someone again. Last time this happened…all those years ago, I begged for your forgiveness, for some kind of sign. I don't know if Andrea was the sign, or what it even meant. I thought you were telling me not to give up, but when she left…" Batman sighed deeply. "But that's all in the past. I love Diana, I need her. Maybe you were trying to tell me all along that I could live a dual life, and that I needed someone who could understand and respect that. Is that it?" A tense moment of silence passed as he mulled over his next words. "In any case, I've made up my mind. Diana might be the only woman who can give me that, and I'm not going to let her slip through my fingers, I swear to you. I thought you should know that. Thank you."

The horrid apparition drifted out of his sight and mind. He closed his eyes, reveling in the silence and solitude of his holy ground. Some time passed, Batman emptying his mind. Perhaps this would be last time he came here, instead seeking refuge with his Amazon princess when he needed it. Yes, that seemed far more appropriate.

The bat was shaken from his rest by faint rustling sounds. It sounded like people brushing through the shadows, trying to get the drop on him. His eyes shot open, scanning the scene again. It seemed as if two figures were approaching from one alleyway, one from each of the other alleyways, and one from a rooftop above him. He kept his hands inside his cape, intent on letting them think they had the element of surprise. Then, he would teach them a lesson for intruding here.

No surprise attack came. Instead, his uninvited guests stepped into the dim, flickering light provided by the alley's two lamps. They were all women dressed in leather armor. They carried short swords and small shields, save for the archer above him. Metal wristbands protected their wrists. They were good-looking too, though not as beautiful as Diana. Amazons, Batman realized…but what were they doing intruding here of all places?! He grit is teeth in anger. He had no idea what they were here for, but they were leaving…by force if necessary.

"What are you doing here?" he barked. "You trespass on holy ground. Get out." The warrior women did not obey. They took up battle positions, completely resolute, and said nothing.

A blonde-haired amazon stepped out from behind one of the warriors. She bore a regal air even though she was fully dressed for battle, perhaps even more regal than Diana. However, he also saw a sense of arrogance in her. It all made sense when he recognized her face. It was Queen Hippolyta, Diana's mother.

Could it be mere coincidence that he was ambushed by the Queen and her warriors barely a week after her daughter had given him her virginity? He thought not.

"Why should I apologize for defiling your hallowed ground, when you've defiled mine?" she asked. A deep-seated anger simmered in her voice and played across her facial features. He was pretty sure he knew what she was referring to, but he refused to give any credence to her characterization of his actions.

"Diana…"

"You don't have the right to say that name!" Hippolyta barked at him, pointing violently with her finger. Her muscles twitched, tense and ready to spring into action. _This is going to turn violent, isn't it?_ Batman thought. Even so, he refused to be the first to stoop to that level. He would be diplomatic as possible, within reason, at least until she forced him not to be. Perhaps there was a small chance this conflict could be resolved with words for once.

"Fine," he stated evenly, although he thought that if anything, she didn't have the right to say "Diana" after the way she had treated her own daughter. "Your daughter invited us to the island to help her save your people. You're welcome", he said, eyes narrowing and voice dropping ominously in pitch at the last part.

"You stupid, pathetic man. You know very damn well that isn't what I speak of," she said, gripping the bridge of her nose in frustration. At least he knew where that habit came from, now. "Are you going to thrice insult me by making me say it?"

"I don't know *what* you're talking about", Batman stated in that monotone voice of his.

Hippolyta grit her teeth in fury. "You…defiled…my DAUGHTER!"

Batman was unperturbed by her outburst, inside and out. "Incorrect, your highness. I love her, and she gave herself to me willingly because she loves me."

"So you freely emit that you've poisoned her mind as well as corrupted her body?!" Hippolyta shouted, rage growing. "You influenced her somehow, bent her to your will, convinced her of your perverted male values, coerced her for your pleasure, I care not. You have made her believe she loves you, but she doesn't. It's sickening. Diana wouldn't…she couldn't…do such a vile thing of her own will. And you do not even have the decency to grovel and beg for forgiveness! Are you so foolish that you recognize neither my authority, nor the severity of what you have just done; or are you so arrogant that you do not care!?" The Queen was turning red with her tirade, arms stiff in indignation.

The black-clad crusader was growing quite irate at this point, twitching his brow and gritting teeth in frustration. More than anything, he wanted to tell her off, to lay into her about what a backwards, controlling, pathetic excuse for a mother she was. With a great amount of effort, he held himself in check…for now.

"I simply refuse to confess to a crime that I have not committed," Batman calmly explained. "There was no coercion. Diana is a free woman; she can do as she pleases."

Hippolyta shook her head in bewilderment. "I don't expect a savage you like you to understand these matters. Think what you will, but you are going to kneel to me. You will swear an oath to leave her alone, on pain of death."

Her plan was starting to crystalize in his mind. She was here to scare him into breaking it off with her, to make Diana think that it was his decision. That meant they hadn't planned on killing him. However, that might change. In any case, the Queen was crazy if she thought he was going to send her away, to hurt her like he already hated himself for doing before.

"You cannot intimidate me, Hippolyta." He thought he heard one of the amazons growl at the disrespect he showed her by referring to her by name. _Good,_ he thought. _She could stand to be knocked down a peg. Besides, angry opponents fight sloppily._ "You're in my world now. Your threats are hollow; you have no authority here. Stand down."

One of the female soldiers on his side gasped at his audacity. Meanwhile, a strange calm had come over Hippolyta. Her eyes narrowed to razor sharp points. It was a look he'd seen before, and it usually meant a hurricane of rage was building up inside. "You don't deserve her. She does not belong to you. Still, I'm giving you one last chance, scum. Give in and swear to me, or you'll face my elite honor guard. You will regret it; you're no match for them."

The scowling Dark Knight ignored her completely. A biting remark was on the tip of his tongue. Normally, he wouldn't give in to such reckless desires. Perhaps it was the amazon's intrusion into his personal space, perhaps it was Hippolyta's baseless accusations, or perhaps it was his personal hatred for her arrogance and total disregard for Diana's happiness. Most likely, it was a combination of all three. In any case, he was having a bad night. Spite cracked through his normally calm demeanor and he said something he knew he shouldn't have.

"Diana loves you, looks up to you. Yet you treat her like dirt, casting her away despite the fact that she risked exile to save you, to save all of you. She didn't show it, but she was devasted. And to add insult to injury, you're trying to control her, not me. Diana deserves someone who will treat her the way she ought to be treated. Face it, Hippolyta. You drove her right into my arms." He couldn't resist accenting the speech with a cocky smirk.

The Queen's eyes widened in utter shock. She recoiled as if struck, before tensing so hard that veins bulged in her arms and face. "Kill him."

Batman launched himself into a fighting posture, preparing for their charge. To his surprise, the honor guard earned his respect by not rushing in headfirst. Instead, they came in slowly, circling him, studying him. He used this time to tactically survey the situation.

The swordswomen were clearly very skilled, which meant the archer was too. Likely, she was waiting for a clear shot when he was distracted with another opponent. He didn't know if these amazons were as strong, as fast, or as skilled as Diana, but he doubted it. Their bracers probably weren't as magical as hers either. From what she'd told him, though, all amazons learned to deflect projectiles with their bracers. Ranged attacks were out.

Batman mentally reviewed his current inventory of gadgets, realizing he still had an arsenal even after the nightly patrol. Paralytic toxin darts, a modified version of Scarecrow's fear toxin, glue grenades, electrically charged batarangs, and more. He chose not to use any of these tools, though. The only thing these amazons respected was martial prowess. He wanted show them that he could fight and win on their level, that he could more than punch up in weight class even though he was outnumbered and outmatched strength-wise. He would show them that mortals were not to be underestimated.

One of the warriors, a redhead, finally charged in, shield raised and sword prepared to run him through. Batman took her by surprise by running directly into her shield bash. The amazon was shocked at the mortal's audacity, but composed herself. She had a pretty good idea of what her opponent was going to do, so she continued her charge while mentally preparing herself to stab upwards when he flipped over her.

Indeed, Batman did grab her shield use it to launch himself into the air above her. She ducked and raised it to protect herself from harm, stabbing blindly upwards. The sword hit nothing but air. Somehow, he was balancing perfectly, vertically straight with one hand on her shield, putting his body out of range. With lightning fast reflexes, the female dropped into a crouch and whirled around, anticipating an attack from behind. Her sword slashed low, but he wasn't there.

Batman had reversed his flip, muscles flexing as he forced his body to land gracefully. The maneuver was timed perfectly, allowing him to drop right back where he was before, behind her new position without the woman seeing him. He took advantage of her vulnerability by delivering a swift kick to the back of her head, careful not to apply too much force or strike her in such a way as to break her neck. As he expected, the woman's head slammed into her shield with a dull thud, causing her to see stars and slump forward. It was likely she had a concussion, but it would heal. That was one down.

There wasn't time to do much else, since the other two swordswomen were pressing in on him. One changed her angle of attack, approaching him from the side. She slashed at him wildly, forcing him back on the defensive. It was easy enough for him to dodge because the attacks were rushed and clumsy, but offence wasn't her goal. She was trying to get him away from her sister, he knew. Evidently, they weren't aware that he did not kill.

At the same moment, the archer took a shot an arrow. He had anticipated this, and was already twisting and turning, using his cape to obscure himself. Batman could have easily parried with the combat plating on his gauntlets (a trick Diana had taught him), but it would have been foolish to do. With Amazonian strength and magical metal, those war bows could easily penetrate even his high tech armor.

The arrow passed harmlessly through his cape and buried itself in a brick wall behind him. It was a narrow escape; he would need to stay near amazons in the future to avoid being targeted.

The madly-slicing amazon stopped, electing to continue creeping up on him. She was now coming at him from a 45-degree angle from where she used to be, ruining the pincer formation from earlier. Neither of the remaining warriors charged in again, learning from their sister's mistake. This put him in a bad spot, he had to be near one of them immediately.

Batman's hands shot to his utility belt, pulling out two batarangs. The women tensed, anticipating a projectile attack they would block with their shields. It didn't come. Instead, Batman ran at one of them, the batarangs raised as if he meant to use them as a melee weapon. The amazons smiled, thinking that this weak man must be at his wits end if he sought to strike at them with such puny weaponry.

At the last possible moment, he clicked two secret latches on the projectiles. They instantly elongated, becoming vaguely crescent-shaped weapons. Essentially, he was wielding a pair of blunt bat-glaives.

He whirled around her, doing a violent dance as he struck at her over and over again in a storm of black metal. Her shield thrummed repeatedly from his attacks, his weapon blurring as it constantly parried her own strikes. The glaives changed angles rapidly, each one being used to parry or strike with either end at a moment's notice. It was a technique that demanded an extreme level of hand-eye coordination, but Batman had that in droves. In addition, he never stopped changing direction, forcing her to continually twist in place. This was enough to confuse the archer with indecision, fearful of hurting an ally.

Eventually the other amazon joined the dance of blades, the pair working in tandem to keep him contained. With his dual-ended weapons that they were unfamiliar with, Batman had them on their toes. Still, his opponents had the edge in this situation due to their advanced weapon training, which was not one of his main proficiencies. It was not long until the women were actively containing him, blocking him each time he tried to leap aside. Soon, he recognized, they would have him locked in place. Freedom of movement must be maintained at all costs.

It was a good thing that the glaive dance was nothing more than a diversion from his true strategy. Switching gears easily, he slashed sideways at both warriors simultaneously. However, there was no real force behind the swings. He abandoned the weapons easily and jump-kicked one of the amazon's shield with both legs. The woman reacted with her magical strength, steadying herself. The blow completely failed to move her at all. Batman was counting on this. He used her shield as a springboard, flinging himself backward and to the side.

The caped crusader landed slightly behind the other surprised amazon. Upon landing, he instantly braced himself on the ground and kicked out. Each of his feet slammed into the back of the female's knees, shattering her balance. Her legs buckled, sending her crashing to the ground. He followed this move up by throwing himself to his feet so that he could meet the next attack standing. He wouldn't be able to take her out, but he bought himself time.

As soon as he was standing, the other amazon tossed her shield at him like a discus. Still getting his second wind, it was an awkward affair to dodge it. He twisted away to the side clumsily, stumbling as he went. He felt a whoosh of air as the bronze object narrowly missed him. It slammed into a wall behind him, smashing apart the concrete.

Luckily his new position afforded him a view of the archer. Her eyes betrayed her, signaling that she was about to fire. Batman shot his grappling hook, attaching it to the lip of the building's roof that she was standing on. The device jerked him rapidly forward, moving him out the line of fire. For the third time that night, a projectile had barely missed him.

As Batman shot towards the roof, he covered himself with the cape as if to ward away incoming arrows. Scoffing at his foolishness, the Amazonian bowmistress snapped a pair of arrows through the cape. They passed right through the material, perforating the man beneath. Leaning over the edge, the woman prepared to haul his lifeless corpse onto the roof.

Moments later, the cape fluttered up to her. She yanked it, fully expecting to see a man dangling in front of her. There was nothing there! The garment hung uselessly, attached to the grappling device. Grunting in frustration, the archer knocked another arrow and aimed into the alley.

Batman was engaged with the other two amazons in melee combat again. This time, they had discarded their shields, realizing that they were liability. All they did was provide the opportunity for him to use them as cover or an acrobatic platform. Now they fought with their swords in one hand, matching his agility step for step.

They were adapting, Batman knew. He would have to be careful about displaying too many of his tricks, for he would have to take each down in a completely new manner.

Swords slashed in at him and fists punched, but he dodged or redirected their attacks. Batman waited for the perfect opportunity to execute his next trick. A good chance presented itself when his current opponent chopped downwards at him. He held up his arm to block, which ordinarily might have resulted in his hand coming off. However, he used his other hand to press a concealed button on the gauntlet's underside, disguising the movement as an action meant to support his block. A series of sharp metal spikes snapped out of the gauntlet. At the same time, Batman flung his hand to the side. The amazon's sword was caught in between two of the spikes, flinging it away. Not wanting to lose her weapon, the woman kept an iron grip and allowed herself to be pulled. She used the momentum to spring forward, coming in close. There wasn't enough leverage to swing a punch, so she decided to grip his shoulder and yank him towards her, freeing her sword at same time so that he could be skewered. But Batman proved the faster as he jabbed her brutally in the solar plexus, stealing her breath and slackening her grip.

Batman seized the opportunity. He gripped her shoulders and slammed her face with a punch. Blood spewed from his opponent's nose as he felt it break under his hand. As she reeled from the blow, Batman spun her around and stepped back before delivering a swift side kick to her ribs. He was fairly confident several of them cracked as she was sent flying backwards into the path of her ally. The woman crumbled into a groaning heap.

The last Amazon threw down her sword. How many tricks could this man possibly have? Determined to avenge her sisters, she leapt at him with a fierce battle cry. Her raw strength would win a contest of fists, she thought.

It was now a battle of martial techniques. As the amazon quickly realized, this was the Bat's strong suit. He constantly swapped between martial arts styles, baiting her in by using a familiar Greek style, only to get the better of her with some obscure Asian style. He came at her with strange, graceful swooping motions that seemed ineffectual until his fingers stabbed into pressure points all over her body. She was weakening rapidly, limbs quivering and refusing to work. Always, he kept her between him and the archer.

Finally, when the amazon could fight no more, he took out her legs and wrestled with her on the ground. Lying underneath her, he choked her until she fainted.

Batman sprang into action, rolling away from her and leaping to his feet. He sprinted towards a fire escape that hung off the side of the archer's building. His sides burned with the exertion of the battle, but he willed himself to move faster. Arrows rained down, dotting the ground behind him. Without further hesitation, he reached the fire escape and climbed it as fast as he could.

The archer retreated from the edge, backing away to the far end of the roof. She pointed an arrow out in front of her. AC units and heaps of junk provided a lot of cover up here, so she had no idea where he might emerge from. Her heart pounding in terror, she hoped she had sufficient reflexes to take him down when he popped out.

"Boo," whispered a baritone voice from behind her. The woman yelped, wheeled around, and fired. The arrow flew out into the empty night, impaling a billboard. Still behind her, Batman karate chopped the back of her neck, sending her into unconsciousness. He caught her before she fell and used the grappling cable to descend down into the alleyway, collecting his cape as he went.

Panting with exhaustion, he gently placed the amazon on the floor next to her bow. Batman was depleted from the long night of fighting crime and amazons. He kept the breathlessness out of his voice when he said "It's over. Your soldiers are defeated."

Hippolyta was charging at him suddenly. He seriously doubted his chances against her, having just tired himself out on her best fighters. Besides, how mighty would the queen of a warrior culture be?

Her sword was raised, ready to cut him in half. He didn't move; he didn't need to. Out of the corner of one eye, he had seen a red, green, and yellow blur leap into action. The blur rushed between them and the ring of steel on steel reverberated in the alleyway.

The Queen leaped back and stared down at the young boy who had just parried her strike. He couldn't have been more than eleven or twelve years old. He wielded a deadly-looking katana gracefully, bore a skilled stance, and wore a green mask over his eyes.

"Step away from him," the boy commanded. Despite the highness of his voice, he somehow sounded menacing. Still, Hippolyta was neither intimidated nor impressed.

"You cannot command me, boy!" she barked at him. The thought of a male telling her what to do, much less such young and puny one, infuriated her. "Do you allow children to do your fighting, Batman?" she spat.

"He's tougher than he looks." Hippolyta had no answer for him, but Damien growled a little. "You're outnumbered and outmatched," Batman pointed out, coming around to Damien's side. He pressed a button on his utility belt, summoning the Batwing. "The way I see it, your honor guard have just committed assault against the League. I could have left them hanging by their feet from a building and made an international incident out of this. Or simply killed them. But I'm not going to do either of those things. I'm showing you mercy today. I want you to remember that." He casually strode over to his glaives, retracted them, and replaced them on his belt. "Come, Damien. We're leaving."

The Batwing had arrived, hovering over the tops of the buildings. Batman grappled himself into the vehicle without another word. Damien copied his father a heartbeat later.

Hippolyta simply watched in fascination, too overcome with frustration and shock to do anything. When the Batwing rocketed away from the scene, she whispered into the night air "I swear by the five goddesses, Batman. I will have my vengeance."

Thunder rumbled ominously.

"Are you going to chastise me for disobeying your orders?" Damien asked, sitting co-pilot in the Batwing. Bruce simply sat there, configuring the vehicle's complex settings as he caught his second wind. Apparently, Damien took his father's silence for disapproval. "I know you wanted to be left alone, but I saw them shadowing you, so I followed *them*. Technically, I didn't go against your wishes. Besides, you needed me."

Bruce turned to his son. "You're right. Thank you, Damien. You did a fine job." The new Robin's jaw went slack with surprise momentarily. Bruce smiled. "Rules are meant to be broken. You made a good judgmental call, and it payed off. That's something I've been hoping you would learn, but it seems like you're already there. I'm proud of you."

A faint smile came to Damien's face, but he wiped his emotion way quickly. It didn't take a genius to figure out where that personality trait came from. "Thank you, father."

"Just don't get cocky," Bruce sternly warned.

"What? You seemed plenty cocky down there!" Damien pointed out.

"It's different if you've earned it. 'Do as I say and not as I do'," Bruce quoted. Damien crossed his arms in annoyance and stared out of the window. "How much of that conversation did you hear, anyway?" Bruce asked.

"Most of it," Damien answered. Several minutes passed silently as he reviewed what he had seen and heard tonight. "So who were they?"

Bruce sighed in disgust. "Amazons."

"What are 'amazons'?" Damien asked.

"They're a race of immortal, magically empowered Greek warrior women from a secret island," he answered. "And as you can see, they're not always very friendly."

"Gee, what made you think you think that?" Damien deadpanned. "I don't think they like men very much either, from the way they were talking to you."

"That's a fair assessment."

"So, who is 'Diana'?"

Bruce internally cringed. The boy was too curious for his own good. He didn't want him getting too close to the truth, not yet. "She's…from the League. You'll meet her one day…probably soon. Diana's an amazon, she used to live on that island. It's called 'Themiscyra'."

Damien smirked. It was so much like Bruce's own trademark smirk. "Really? From the way that you and her were talking, this Diana seems like more than just a teammate to you."

Damn, that boy was sharper than he gave him credit for. In any case, Bruce didn't want to continue down that line of conversation. Instead, he brushed right passed it. "We were fighting because Diana is a bit of an iconoclast. That woman you blocked, she's Diana's mother, Queen Hippolyta of the amazons. She's upset with some choices that her daughter made, and blames me."

"Yeah, I picked up on that." He didn't make any further comment, though, knowing by now that it was fruitless to try to force his dad to talk about anything he didn't want to. "Where are we going, anyway? If we were headed back to the mansion, we'd be there by now."

"I'm taking you back to Bludhaven," Bruce said.

"More training with Nightwing?" Damien whined. "I don't need more training. I've beaten him before, remember? Hell, even Deathstroke. I could've taken her too."

It was Bruce's turn to smirk. "I doubt it. She has many centuries of practice on you."

"Oh? And you could have handled her? What am I saying, of course you couldn't have. You nearly got beat by a bunch of girls." Bruce jerked the Batwing's controls, causing the vehicle to swing to one side and bump Damien's head against the wall. "Ow! What was that for?"

Bruce's voice took on a hard edge, like he did with criminals. "I don't want to hear you speak like that again. Some of the toughest, strongest-willed people I've fought beside are women, and they're not all from the League. They're certainly some of them that would knock you on your ass in two seconds. The quickest path to defeat, Damien, is underestimating a foe." The boy didn't answer, just rubbed his head and shot daggers at him. Oh well. If Damien insisted on that line of thinking, he might have to get Diana in the ring with him.

"Your sword play and martial arts are fine, but you need to learn to use gadgets as well. Going up against a metahuman without powers, you're not going to be able to rely on pure skill all the time. The same goes for armed gunmen. Besides, training with Nightwing is about more than combat. He can teach you detective skills. Based on the way you tracked that serial killer tonight, you've been learning a great deal from him."

Damien seemed to perk up at that last part. "So, does that mean I get to go out on patrol with you again soon?"

Bruce nodded. "Sure. I'll evaluate you again in a few weeks. If I like what I see, I'll teach you the advanced stuff."

The Batwing stopped above a tall building in Bludhaven, a suitable drop point. "I guess this is my stop," Damien said, punching the button to open the glass hatch. He front-flipped off the edge of the vehicle, gliding down into the city below and swinging from building to building with his hook.

Bruce watched him go, making sure his son was ok. Then, he turned the aircraft around and shot back to his mansion as the sun rose.

 **Author's Note: Surprise appearance, haha. I really like Damien's character a lot and will be including him in this fic. If you don't know who he is, he's Bruce and Talia's son who was raised by Ra's in the league of assassins. He's a lot like Bruce, with the same flaws ramped up to 11 and not tempered by experience. Anyway, he's cool and he becomes the new Robin (instead of Tim I guess)?**

 **If you've been following the line of New 52 animated movies, this story would logically have to happen sometime after "Son of Batman" but before "Justice League vs. Teen Titans". I'm not a continuity purist, but I thought I should just provide that for reference.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: I haven't suddenly acquired the rights to DC comics, Bruce and Diana, Justice League, or anything else for that matter. Still don't own. Oh, the tragedy...**

"Batman to Wonder Woman." There was no reply.

Bruce sighed in frustration. He'd been trying to contact Diana ever since his confrontation with Hippolyta two days ago, wanting to arrange a private conversation with her at the Manor. Bruce didn't want to put this kind of sensitive information over the League Communications system, even though the communicators used top-notch encryption he had designed himself. No system was completely hack-proof.

Fortunately, he had received a response from Diana on one occasion. Unfortunately, she had said that she didn't know when she would have time to see him, due to pressing ambassadorial business for the next few days. Diana had even removed her communicator, not wanting to be distracted by the constant stream of data flowing on the League channels.

"J'ohn, can you give me Wonder Woman's location?"

There was brief pause before the Martian's stoic voice came over the communicator in Bruce's ear. "She requested transport to the edge of Themiscyran space, saying she was visiting her mother for the day. Since I can't track her communicator, I would guess she is still there."

Bruce cringed internally. He'd wanted to provide his side of story before Diana got a distorted version from her mother. There was, of course, a faint possibility that Hippolyta would tell the truth. However, Bruce was not a very hopeful person. The tragedies of his life, as well as his years delving into the filth of society as Batman, had beaten all sense of optimism out of him.

"No problem, J'ohn. Let me know as soon as you have a fix on her location."

"Will do, Batman."

There was nothing left to do but wait for an update from J'ohn. In the interim, Bruce decided he could get some work on the new Batsuit done.

Some time passed, Bruce's mind being overtaken by the Bat as he poured over schematics and worked with delicate machinery. Eventually, he heard J'ohn's voice again.

"Batman, Wonder Woman is requesting transport to the Batcave. She seems…rather upset with you."

Bruce stopped his work and quickly put on his Batsuit, just in case. "Go on, let her through."

"Listen, Batman," J'ohn said, a slight amount of worry leaking into his voice. "Are you sure about this?"

"I can handle it."

"Alright, putting her through now."

A few seconds passed in awkward silence, and then the Batcave teleporter pad hummed to life. Bruce tensed, ready for anything.

Not a second after the humming stopped, a great gust of air reverberated through the entire Batcave. It wasn't quite a sonic boom, but Bruce could tell that it was damn close.

Loose objects were scattered all over the cave. The horde of bats that lived there was disturbed as well, the little creatures flocking as fast as they could to the outer edges of the cavern. Their terrified screeching added to the cacophony of shattering stone as the approaching metahuman smashed her way through several stalactites. The sound was deafening.

When the rock dust cleared, Bruce saw Diana floating about twenty yards away from him. Her luscious lips were twisted into a deep scowl. Her every muscle flexed in anticipation as her eyes burned with white hot fury.

Bruce would never have admitted it, but a small pang of fear shot though him in that moment. Still, he was resolved to stand his ground. His mask was down. He met her hateful glare with a neutral expression.

A heartbeat later, he was seeing stars as his head thrummed with agony. Bruce groaned, trying to process what had just happened. He had never seen Diana fly that fast and wasn't sure that he could have countered her attack even if he had been trying to. There was cold metal against the back of his head, which meant he was presently being held up against the metal wall next to the Batcomputer. By his throat, if the tightness that obstructed his airway was any indication.

When his vision cleared, he looked straight into Diana's beautiful eyes, which were still burning with anger. Her lips were twisted in a snarl. Bruce desperately hoped this was the last time he would see her this way.

"Diana…" he began.

"Shut up," she barked at him. Diana scrutinized him thoroughly, running her eyes over him from head to toe. "You weak, pathetic, ARROGANT little man!" she roared. "You must have an ego the size of Mt. Olympus to think that you could deceive me, could fool me into thinking you're anything but the monster I saw when I first beheld you! I loved…" she tried to continue, choking up a little. Hot tears came to her eyes. "I *thought* I loved you," she corrected. "But now I see you for what you really are, rodent."

Bruce managed to croak out with what little air he had, "And what would that be, Princess?"

"A liar. A pretender. Your crusade for 'justice' is nothing more than an act. It was a trick to earn my respect and gain access to my body. You don't love me. Admit it!" Diana slackened her grip so that he could do as she commanded.

To her surprise, Bruce did nothing of the sort. Instead, he took several deep breaths of air before calmly saying, "I admit nothing, except that I love you, Diana. I've done nothing wrong."

"Don't lie to me, Bruce! My mother told me what happened. She approached you politely and you attacked her. And before you try to deny it, perhaps you would care to explain why two amazons are dead, why a third is barely clinging to life and paralyzed from the neck down, and why ARTEMIS, my BEST FRIEND, is too brain damaged to even speak!" She was practically screaming in his face now, spittle striking him like raindrops as she shook him violently.

Bruce struggled to clear his head and fight past the pain that wracked his mind. Eventually, he was able to talk past the vice-like grip on his throat. "Did…did you actually see them in these states?"

Her nose crinkled, eyes squinting in confusion as if she hadn't even considered that point. "No, I didn't", she said matter-of-factly as if that admission changed nothing. However, she did visibly relax a bit, loosening her grip on Bruce slightly.

"Are you open to my side of the story, Princess?" he asked reasonably.

Their eyes met. Diana saw Bruce's love for her in his eyes, plain as day, in spite of what she had done to him just now. It rocked her to her core, nearly pulling her out of the storm of emotions she was trapped in. Nearly, but not quite.

"Talk," she barked at him, the storm blowing in again. Only this time, it was quieter. Diana set him down on the ground, allowing him to stand on his own feet.

He rubbed his throat which was most assuredly bruised. "I can show you," he rasped, reaching for the wrist computer inside his left gauntlet.

Diana slapped his hand away, nearly shattering the appendage. "I know your tricks. Do you think I'm stupid?"

Bruce shook his head. "I think that you love me, and somewhere deep inside, you know I love you too, and that I wouldn't…couldn't, do something like this." He paused, descending into a fit of coughing and wheezing. When Bruce recovered, he continued on as if nothing had happened. "And I think you also know that you want to give me a chance to prove it." His voice was practically croaking as he talked past his damaged windpipe.

Diana took a deep, steadying breath. Bruce was right. Unable to speak, she nodded her head at him.

Bruce tapped a few keys on the computer, causing a video file accompanied by audio to play over the Batcomputer. "My cowl records everything. This is what happened that night," he explained.

The screen showed Crime Alley from Bruce's point of view, followed by the amazons surrounding him. Diana listened carefully to his exchange with her mother, noting the impassioned way he spoke about her and calmly stood his ground. She watched with rapt attention as her mother boldly ordered his death. She watched as Bruce defended himself, noting how none of the wounds he inflicted matched her mother's story. Diana even saw the honor guard pick themselves back up after the battle, albeit slowly, and leave the scene under their own power.

By the end of the clip, Diana had sunk to her knees, face becoming a blank mask of horror. She stared, unseeing, at the paused video. "I'm so sorry, Bruce," she barely whispered. "She…lied to me. My own mother. She turned me against the man I love. And the worst part is…" a tear slid down one cheek, "…it worked."

Bruce's heart felt like it was going to tear in half. Springing into action, he went over to her on wobbly legs, crouching down to put his arms around her. "It's okay, Diana. You didn't know."

The amazon princess suddenly stood up and pushed him away, tears streaming down her face as she realized what she had done. "No it isn't!" she sobbed. "I…I hurt you. I could have…could have killed you. I nearly did kill you!"

"Diana…" he begged, reaching out for her. She jerked away again, turning her face away from him. She couldn't stand to meet his gaze, absolute shame coursing through her veins. She abandoned him. She abandoned the person she loved most in the world for a heartless mother who would rip that person away from her if she had the power. How could she not have believed in him, not seen through Hippolyta's lies, not trusted in Bruce's character? How could she have treated him, the man she supposedly loved, the way that she did? How could she let her temper surge so far out of control?

Diana thought she must be the worst person in the entire universe to do such a thing. How could he ever want her back after this? He must despise her.

"Get away from me, Bruce!" she yelled. "I'm a monster." She began to run towards the teleporter pad, unable to summon the will to fly.

"Wait!" Bruce pleaded, attempting to chase after her. He stumbled and fell a few times, still dizzy from the head trauma. It was definitely a concussion. "I forgive you, Diana!" he yelled after her, hoping for an answer.

None came. Diana was ignoring him. He saw her punch in a series of numbers on the teleport pad's control console, and then disappear from view.

* * *

In the Watchtower monitor womb, J'ohn heard the teleporter pad activate, so he glanced down to see who it was. Was that Diana? And was she…crying? Seeing the strong-willed, tough, and unshakable amazon in this state shocked him to say the least.

The Martian watched her quickly run out of the hall, dashing to her quarters. Unsure what to do to help her (since he still didn't really understand humans), and unwilling to intrude inside her mind, he telepathically contacted Superman.

 _Superman,_ J'ohn's voice echoed inside the man of steel's head, _Diana is in trouble. She's crying, upset. I don't know why. I didn't know what to do. I thought it was best if you talked to her._

The man of steel was wide awake despite the late hour, doing some important paperwork. Concern shot through him like a bolt of lightning. _What? Really? What happened?_ he asked in rapid succession, his mind radiating pure shock.

 _I don't know,_ J'ohn answered. _She was angry, and then she visited Batman, and then she came back here, like this._

 _I swear to god…okay, J'ohn. I'm on it._ There was a red and blue blur as Superman flew through the hallways in a mad dash to reach the amazon princess.

He was waiting by her door when Diana arrived. "Diana, what's wrong?" he asked, his worry evident in the tone of his voice.

She just shook her head. "Why are you crying?!" Clark demanded, reaching a hand out to her. She looked away from him. No one in the League would be her friend anymore, would be worried about her if they knew what a horrible thing she'd done.

"It's nothing," she answered, voice trembling.

"Damn it, Diana. This," he said, gesturing at her, "is not nothing. What the hell did he do to you!" When she still didn't answer, he grit his teeth and said "That's it. I'm going to break him."

Diana whirled on Superman, stopping him dead in is tracks with one arm and throwing him up against the wall. It dented badly.

"No, Clark. Leave him alone, or I'll break you. He didn't do a damn thing to me, I promise you that," she said sternly, looking the Kryptonian straight in the eye. "I…I'm the one who..." she muttered, unable to give voice to her crime.

Superman just stared at her in confusion, unsure how to respond to that. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Diana shook her head resolutely and typed in her access code. Without saying another word, she went into her room and closed the door, leaving the man of steel to ponder the situation in abject bewilderment.

Diana flopped down on her bed and cried herself to sleep, feeling utterly defeated, ashamed, and alone.

* * *

Back at the cave, Bruce lay on the same medical gurney he and Diana had been when they explored each other for the first time. He had just finished telling Alfred how he had come to be in this state. Now the butler was finishing up what little he could do to help Bruce, then he was leaving to call Dr. Leslie for assistance. As the older man went, he muttered under his breath with no small amount of contempt, "I warned her, did I not?"

Bruce sank deep into despair, blaming himself for what had happened. If only he had told her sooner, he could have prevented this. Instead he had been too stubborn, too selfish to overcome his guarded nature, too afraid of openly talking about their relationship in a channel where people might find out. And now he had to pay the price for it. Diana hated herself, and he had to live with the painful truth that it was all his fault.

Bruce knew what he had to do. He was going to make her see that he still loved her and that he forgave her if it was the last thing he did. He had to; he needed Diana in his life more than she could possibly understand.

 **I must be a sadistic bastard to do this to the poor couple.**

 **Also wanted to add that I started this story off thinking it would be a one-shot. I just had a good idea for a fic and some things I *really* wanted to write about. It wasn't until the follows and favs and all the other support from you guys came in that I actually thought "oh wait, I could do an episodic thing with this." I've been having so much fun writing this story and I really like writing episodically, so I have to thank you guys. Because without you, I probably wouldn't have done it.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: This is a good time to mention, I'm envisioning Wonder Woman as the character model from the New 52 animated movies (Justice League: War, Throne of Atlantis, and Justice League vs. Teen Titans), even though the fic is mostly inspired by the cartoon. I just like that design better, it fits the character more in my opinion, and the sword is bad ass. Thought I should explain that because some may not know about those movies (and the related character model) at all. You'll see things in the fic that are incongruent with the cartoon version of her appearance.**

 **I'm pretty sure I don't own any of these characters, JL, or DC.**

Electrical energy flared as the metallic androids were continually blasted apart by the red-haired, female Thanagarian. Her mace, the instrument of the training droid's demise, crackled with electricity as well. She whirled and swooped the weapon through the air of the combat simulation room, crashing it into the holographic images of parademons over and over again. The illusions were shattered, though, when the faux-opponents were converted into showers of sparks and scrap machine parts. The sounds of destruction could barely be heard over the roar of the constant "HAAGH!" every time the woman swung her mace.

"Come on, Di, don't just stand there," Shayera called, looking over her shoulder. "This is…HAAGH!…extremely therapeutic. I could use some…HAAGH!…help, though."

Diana merely sighed in response, as if the whole scenario bored her. She stood off to one side of the training room, slouching with her arms limp at her sides. Truth be told, she was more than content to simply watch Hawkgirl obliterate the droids. The amazon princess couldn't find the will or the energy to raise her sword against the opponents. In fact, she hadn't been able to summon the energy necessary to do much of anything in the past few days, unless moping around in her room could be considered "doing something". Diana hadn't even cared to do her hair in the elaborate braid she normally wore, leaving it a disheveled mess instead.

Perhaps it was simply the fact that she'd barely touched any food since her confrontation with Bruce. Far more likely, it had something to do with the depression that had been hanging over her like a dark cloud, weighing her down with deep regret and sorrow.

The rest of the League (well, mostly the founders) had noticed this radical change in behavior, of course. It wasn't that they didn't care or hadn't tried to help; they had indeed noticed, and cared for her a great deal. For the most part, it was just that they just didn't know how to handle the situation.

John was too much of a soldier. He was a far cry from the emotional and empathetic type, having been trained in the marines, as well as in the Green Lantern Corps, to "suck it up" and persevere. J'ohn was far too removed from humanity to understand human emotions, and Flash was just flat out too immature to handle something like this. Superman seemed like the only qualified candidate, but he was far too protective of Diana, as if he thought he had a shot with her romantically or something. She'd made it plain that she didn't want him interfering. Outside of the founding seven, there wasn't anyone she was close enough with who might be any more adept at making her feel better. Frequent shirking of her League duties in favor of ambassadorial business had disconnected Diana from many of the newer members.

Truly, the men of the League were at a loss for what to do to help. Handling the princess had always been Batman's job, and he hadn't been around lately. As usual, he'd claimed "trouble in Gotham", although Diana knew that in actuality he was likely resting from his head injury.

Therefore, the founding seven had relegated Shayera the duty of making the princess feel better. Diana assumed that they must have asked her because she and Shayera shared the trait of being volatile warrior women, as well as the fact that they had bonded after their trip to Tartarus.

In any case, Shayera had been doting on her constantly. Empathy was not one of the Thanagarian's strong suits, but she had made an admirable attempt. Eventually, she'd just caved in and decided to solve the problem the only way she knew how: with combat. After much persuasion she'd convinced Diana to don her battle gear and join her in a parademon-themed training scenario ironically coded by Batman himself.

Diana was suddenly shaken from her idle memories when she heard Shayera yell "Di!, watch out!"

A squad of parademons was approaching her, clutching crude laser rifles in their vile hands. They raised the weapons and fired. A volley of red streaks sizzled through the air, coming straight for the black-haired amazon.

Diana languidly deflected the beams with her indestructible bracers. She was in no hurry to crush the droids, and could likely keep this up all day in any case. The red energy slammed against the metal over and over again, but did not mar it in any way. However, more and more of the insectoid monsters were flocking over to her by the second, the laser volley becoming larger and larger. Soon, Diana was forced to work her hands at blinding speed to parry all the attacks.

Normally she would have been more than up to the challenge, but this was not an ordinary day for her. She barely put any effort into maintaining both the accuracy and speed of her technique. It was as if she couldn't even be bothered to give it a serious try. As a result, one out of every five or so laser bolts seared her skin, giving her painful second degree burns. Diana didn't react, as if she didn't care what happened to her. Why should she, after what she had done? Why should anyone?

Shayera was greatly disturbed by this scene, and rushed over to help Diana. "Don't just stand there!" the winged woman commanded. "Fight!" She slammed into the flock of parademons, batting them aside with her mace, her wings, or just simply tossing them into each other with her alien strength. Before the robots' AI knew what had happened, many of them had already been disposed of. It was a scene of total chaos and carnage.

Diana rolled her eyes and sighed. Perhaps if she humored the other woman, they could be done with this pointless affair. She raised her shield, drew her gleaming, winged sword, and charged silently into battle. There were significantly less opponents in the cluster after Shayera's assault. A storm of laser beams still flew at her though, ricocheting off the Themiscryan-forged metal of her shield.

When Diana reached them, she leaped into action. In between leaps, dodges, and blocks, her sword flashed out. Each time it did so, a parademon-droid was cut in half either vertically or horizontally. Soon, there was nothing left nearby to fight.

Out of the corner of her eye, Diana spotted one of the flying insects skittering away through the air in an attempt to regroup with its cohorts. The amazon dropped her sword and shield, reaching instead for her lasso of truth. The rope latched itself around the beast and she yanked it violently back to her. Diana caught it in one of her hands, grabbing it by the throat. She squeezed hard, ready to squish the circuitry out of her foe.

It wasn't one of Darkseid's minions she was gripping. It was Bruce's throat that her hand was clasped tightly around. He was in the Batsuit but his cowl was removed, just like it had been that night. She could see his handsome face in all its glory, his skin turning dark blue from lack of oxygen. He clutched feebly at her fingers, trying to pry them away as he struggled to breathe. It was no use. Diana was too powerful.

"Why?" Bruce wheezed. She didn't have time to answer the question as her love suddenly choked and died, dangling limply in the air.

"NO!" she screamed, hurling the ghost far away from her in horror. Diana quickly regretted the reflex action. Bruce crashed into the training room wall, smashing his head back against the unforgiving metal. His skull was cracked open, brains and blood oozing from the back of his head. His neck was bent at an odd angle, completely snapped by the whiplash.

An icy chill flooded her veins and she felt horribly nauseous. Diana jerked away from the frightful image. It was to no avail; the sliced bodies of the pseudo-parademons she had dispatched were replaced by Bruce duplicates. They littered the floor all around her, macabre evidence of her betrayal.

Tears came to her eyes. She was unable to look away from the grizzly scene, her face a mask of pure shock. Diana didn't notice Shayera flying in circles around her, keeping the robots away.

"Diana!" Shayera called. "What the hell are you doing!? …Diana?"

The amazon faintly registered the thanagarian's voice. "I…I did this to him. Me, the one he trusted, the one he…" she couldn't go on, turning away from the scene before her and covering her eyes.

Shayera's eyes went wide with shock. There was clearly more to this story than she'd guessed. "Computer, stop simulation," she ordered. The holographic textures disappeared instantly, leaving behind docile training droids that powered down and stood there obediently. "What's wrong?" she asked. "They're just training droids."

Diana shook her head. "I know that. I just…I saw them as, well, I saw them as…Bruce." Her voice was choked with emotion.

Shayera was completely puzzled. "Why would you see that?" She knew only vague details about the source of Diana's melancholy that she had managed to pry from the amazon. Evidently, Diana had wronged Batman somehow and felt guilty about it. Shayera had brushed it off as a simple lovers' quarrel, but now she wasn't so sure. It took extreme guilt to cause what Diana was experiencing.

"Because, Shayera," Diana said. "I hurt him. I hurt him really bad." Diana stared straight up at the ceiling so she didn't have to see the devastation around her.

Hawkgirl glanced around, noting the chopped up bits of training bots. What kind of harm could this butchery have possibly reminded her of? "What did you do to him?" Shayera asked, putting a hand on her hip, concern shifting from Wonder Woman to Batman. It was an odd thought, to think that the seemingly unstoppable Batman had been beaten. More disturbing still, how could Diana have done something like that to him? They got along so well in the past. Had Bruce done something to deserve it? Her mind was maelstrom of questions. At least she knew he was alive, Batman having checked in the day before to say that he was busy.

Diana shook her head again, trying to swallow tears. Shayera realized what the problem was. "Let's get you out of here, go back to your room. Then, you're going to tell me exactly what happened," she commanded sternly. Diana nodded her head in satisfaction and collected her gear, then the two women left the training room.

* * *

"It started when we, well, lay together for the first time," Diana tentatively began. She was sitting on her bed with Shayera, who had been kind enough to fetch her an iced mocha.

"I was so happy," Wonder Woman continued. "You were right, Shayera. I shouldn't have 'knocked it' until I tried it." Diana smiled, wiping a tear from her eye. "But it was more than that. We'd been struggling to get together for a long time, and I finally broke through to him somehow. It was…magical," she breathed.

"Sounds like a dream," Shayera commented.

Diana nodded. "It seemed that way. Like I said, I was so thrilled. It was on my mind for the next week. Hell, I was humming. I never do that!" Hawkgirl had to nod in acquiescence. It was true, Diana had been in a much more cheerful mood lately. Nearly everyone had noticed, especially the founders, who had pretty much guessed the reason.

She took a sip of the sweet coffee before continuing. "I had a summit coming up, in which I was to represent Themiscyra. I visited my mother the day before. She noticed too, and…well…I just kind of told her."

"I'm sure that went well," Shayera deadpanned.

"It did not," Diana confirmed. "She was shocked. Disgusted. Disappointed. It escalated quickly. Soon we were yelling at each other, and I stormed out of there."

"Why does that not surprise me…"

"That's not the worst of it," Diana continued. "I got a message from Hermes. It was from my mother, warning of dire news on Themiscyra, pleading with me to return so that I could get the full story. When I arrived, she told me that she'd gone to speak with Bruce and that he'd attacked her and her honor guard. She told me that two of them were dead, another crippled, and a fourth, Artemis, my best friend, was brain-addled."

Shayera was fairly sure where this story was going. "Was it true?"

"No. But I believed her. It was a foolish thing to do," Diana said, cheeks turning red. She looked down, unable to meet the other woman's gaze. "I just…I…" she stammered, putting her face in her hands. "Rage overcame me, Shayera. I was furious, furious that this mortal male would do something like that, harm my beloved sisters after the trust I'd shown him. I felt betrayed. I…attacked him, betrayed him, Shayera." She was crying again at this point. "I threw him into a wall, giving him a concussion, and strangled him by the throat," she sobbed. "Bruce showed me a video of what really happened. He's innocent."

The Thanagarian leaned in and rubbed Diana's arm soothingly. "There there…if I know Batman, he can handle it. I've seen the way he looks at you; he adores you. He'll forgive you."

Diana sniffed. "Maybe so, but I don't deserve it. I'm a monster. I'm too powerful, I could break him easily, and with this foul temper…" she drifted off, breathing deeply. After a moment, the princess went on. "I'm cursed, Shayera. You were there, you know who my father is."

"True. But you can make the conscious choice to step out of his shadow."

"How can I do that?! There's no coming back from what I've done. I betrayed him. What kind of a shitty lover am I?" Diana moaned in sorrow and self-pity. It was jarring to hear the normally proper amazon swear like that. Shayera knew this was a dead serious matter.

"He deserves someone better than me."

"Look," Shayera said, "on Thanagar, if Bruce was your equal, he'd hurt you back and call it even. But I've learned things don't work that way here. I know it hurts, but you have to talk to him."

Diana just simply shook her head. "It's good advice," Hawkgirl stated. There was still no reaction, the amazon was being stubborn. "Follow it and make things better, or just wallow in self-pity. It's your decision," she declared harshly. She stood up and went to leave in frustration. Shayera lingered at the doorway, though. She felt a little bad for being so rough with someone that was clearly vulnerable. "I'll go talk to him before the founder's meeting, ok?"

Diana rolled over onto the bed and faced away from the winged warrior. "Thanks for the coffee," she mumbled.

* * *

More whirring sounds echoed in Batcave, heralding the arrival of a guest. Shayera Hol flapped her way through the dark, lonely expanse. Soon she had landed gracefully behind Bruce's chair, which he currently occupied as he did some research.

"Hello," he greeted without turning around. His voice was extremely hoarse. "Here to show me your wrath?"

Shayera leaned against the side of the Batcave computer, noting the dents in the steel wall next to it. "Don't worry, lucky for you, I'm not. Diana gave me the story. I know it's not your fault."

Bruce turned to face her. His cowl was off. Bandages were wrapped around his head and his throat was blue with bruises. "That what she told you?" he croaked quietly.

"Yeah. Why? Anything you want to tell me?" Her voice took on a hard edge.

"Save it for the criminals. It's my fault. I could have told her what happened over the commlinks, but I was nervous. Didn't want anyone to know. I made her do this," he said, gesturing to himself. "And now she hates herself for it."

Shayera shook her head in exasperation. "You two were practically made for each other!"

Bruce raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"You're down here wallowing in your dark little cave, blaming yourself. She's up there crying in her bedroom, blaming herself."

It honestly didn't surprise him; Bruce had guessed as much. Diana was such a self-sacrificing saint, so pure and righteous. He admired that about her, but it also meant she would tear herself apart. It was just another reason he desperately needed to fix this.

"It's like you're both trying to out-martyr each other," Shayera continued. "It's maddening!" she said, throwing up her hands. "Just fix this. I don't know what you're thinking, but you need to fix this. She's a mess, convinced she's some kind of poison. It has to be you." Shayera narrowed her eyes at him.

Bruce actually cracked a faint smile in spite of himself. It was only the most important thing in the world to him right now. "I promise you, Shayera, I will."

"Good." The Thanagarian nodded, turning around to go. "Oh, and one more thing: you're coming to the founder's meeting today, right?"

"It's the middle of the day. Where else can I go?" he asked.

"Well, you had better be there," she warned. "And you'd better talk to her not a second after."

Bruce smirked, turning back to his computer. As Shayera walked away, he casually mentioned over his shoulder, "You look good in yellow, by the way."

* * *

From across the semi-circular table, Bruce noticed that Diana's eyes were still downcast. She hadn't even met his gaze once during this entire meeting, not even when he was speaking. For that matter, she wasn't really looking any of the founders in the eye. He could only imagine what kind of feelings must be lurking inside of her right now. Bruce could also tell that others were noticing that her antisocial behavior seemed to magnify with him around, and hoped that nobody would bring it up.

Every now and then, he was consulted about tactical advice or financial matters (it was technically his tower, even if the government had a big hand in it). He spoke tersely, not wanting to irritate his sore throat further.

"Hey, Bats, what's wrong with your voice?" Wally suddenly blurted out.

Diana visibly cringed as soon as the words left the speedster's mouth. Strange looks came her way and eyes shot back and forth between her and Batman.

Bruce wasn't sure how much everyone knew, but he highly doubted that anyone other than Shayera had the whole story. "It's nothing. Got a small breath of aerosolized acid."

There was an awkward pause. Everyone seemed skeptical about his explanation, but no one pressed the issue. Instead the meeting went on, for once getting resolved in a reasonable amount of time. There was still a lot of fallout to deal with over the whole Cadmus and Brainiac conflict, but most of the tedious minutia that plagued earlier founders' meetings had been made much more manageable with better organization and manpower. Besides, things had been very calm for a while now. Still, the meeting dragged on a little too much for Bruce's impatient taste.

Eventually the gathering was coming to a close. Diana stood up, and, having strategically seated herself near the door, made a beeline out of there.

Batman stood up to follow, but Lantern and Flash were about to cut him off from her, giving her a chance to escape into the Watchtower's many hallways.

Shayera came to the rescue, giving him a subtle wink. She stopped Lantern in his tracks, saying "So…John…can I ask you…" Bruce didn't stick around to listen. He took advantage of the opening and darted out of there, making a mental note that he really owed her one.

Diana was power-walking away at a rapid pace, putting a lot of distance between herself and him. Her heels clicked sexily on the Watchtower's floor, only inciting him to follow her even more.

Bruce waited until they were out of earshot of the other founders. "Diana, wait…" he pleaded through his throbbing throat.

"Leave me alone," his Amazon lover dejectedly said over her shoulder.

"Look, I'm sorry. Can't we just talk?" he said, trying to catch up to her. Bruce wobbled a bit, still too dizzy to run.

"Get away from me!" she shouted, flying away from him now. There was no way he could catch up to her, so he decided to outmaneuver her. He reached into his utility belt and pulled out a blowgun he had prepared for this exact eventuality. Blowing into it, Bruce launched a tracer onto the back of Diana's uniform just as she rounded a bend. The tiny device blinked faintly, transmitting data to Batman's gauntlet computer.

At the same time, Booster Gold was coming up the hallway. He swiftly approached Batman and took up and exaggeratedly confident stance. "Hey, I don't think the lady wants to talk to you!" he said in a falsely deep voice, trying desperately to sound menacing and failing horribly.

Beyond irate, Batman simply held up his wrist computer and pressed a button. All of Booster's advanced tech suddenly malfunctioned, causing sparks to fly all around him. He convulsed for a few moments, hair standing on end and body stiff.

"Ow! That really hurt!" he whined. He glanced around, not seeing the Bat anywhere. "Jerk."

"What's going on here, Gold?" John said, arriving on the scene. "What the hell are you doing? And why is that grate ripped off?"

Confused, Booster searched the area for any clue as to what Lantern could possibly mean. Then he saw it; some kind of ceiling service hatch panel sitting there on the floor, broken. "I didn't do it! Honest!" he complained.

John just shook his head. "Save it. I'm fed up with all your stupid little pranks. Report to the maintenance bay. You're going to fix it."

Booster Gold sighed. It was just his luck.

* * *

Diana soared through the watchtower's hallways, taking a haphazard and circuitous route. When she was sure she had lost him, she landed at a random junction and tried to figure out where to go next. Ideally, she'd like to go sulk in her room. Of course, Bruce had the access codes and would think to check there. The Mess Hall or Training decks would be obvious places for him to check as well. Not to mention, they would be quite populated. Diana wanted to be alone.

She aimlessly walked for a few minutes, trying to find a place to go. Eventually, she encountered some kind of storage room on the side of one of the hallways. Shrugging her shoulders, Diana decided to go have a peak. It was a small space that was empty save for a few crates of supplies scattered around. It seemed like as good a place as any to seek isolation, even if it was not entirely comfortable. The amazon princess slumped against a wall and slid lazily down it. She pulled her knees towards her, hugging them.

Diana just sat there for a while, feeling forlorn as she contemplated what had happened for what seemed like the thousandth time. It was like some horror flick that replayed itself over and over in her mind; only this was real. It was a living nightmare that she didn't know how to escape.

So absorbed in her desolation, the amazon did not notice an AC vent in the room being quietly removed, nor did she hear the metallic clinking sound of a smoke pellet striking the floor. It was only when the grey gas exploded all around her that she realized what was happening. He was here. Didn't that fool see her for what she was? Or perhaps he wasn't pursuing her to make up, but rather, to claim vengeance. Diana wouldn't have blamed him.

She leapt to her feet, sprinting to the door. It wouldn't budge. Damn it! Bruce must have overridden the door controls and locked it down. Diana cursed herself for forgetting that he had partially designed, and owned, this tower. She was now trapped like a bird in a cage. Sure, she could have thrown the door open with her metahuman strength, but what if someone happened to by passing by at that exact moment? Diana refused to let herself be careless with her powers again.

She heard metal boots approaching her through the cloud. When the smoke finally cleared, he was there, less than a foot away from her. She couldn't meet his gaze.

"Princess…" Bruce began. She didn't give him the chance, impatiently trying to brush past him. Bruce swiveled to block her each time she tried to squirm away.

Diana felt a pang of dread at the notion of touching him again. Bruce picked up on this, recognizing her paranoia of hurting him once again. He didn't feel good about it, but it was something he could exploit.

Springing into action, Batman closed the distance between them. He grappled her, immobilizing her limbs as he pinned her against the smooth metal of the automatic door. He was firm, but gentle. It was more than she felt she deserved.

Diana made no move to break his grasp, going limp instead. She felt his hot breath tickle her face. It still didn't make her look at him. "What are you doing?" she asked dryly. It sounded more like a statement than an inquiry. Her tone broke Bruce's heart. If he had to describe it in one word it would be…defeated. Hearing the noble warrior talk this way made him sick. Just another reason he needed to make this right.

The Dark Knight removed his mask and brought his lips to the crook of her neck. He brushed them gently over her perfectly smooth and radiant skin. His lips traced her ear, her jawline, even darting up to her cheek. It was as if he was on a fervent quest to have his lips touch every part of her.

Bruce was completely intoxicated by her, drunk on passion for his princess. Pressing his body roughly against her, he started planting actual kisses all over Diana. They were forceful, slow, loving kisses that he used to show her just how he felt about her. Each meeting of his lips against her skin was like a symbol of clemency. Hopefully, she would see them for what they truly were, and not an undeserved mercy.

Bruce growled right into her ear, sending delicious chills down her spine. Her breathing had become labored by now as she struggled to suppress a moan. A slight gasp escaped her shapely lips instead.

"I love you, Princess. I need you. Please come back to me, Diana."

The black-haired amazon shook her head. "I can't. Not after I…" she protested.

"Shhhh," he commanded. "I don't want to hear about what you did. It's okay," he whispered hoarsely.

"No, it's not, Bruce. What I did is not okay! Why can't you see that?" she half yelled and half pleaded. He was breaking down her resolve already, she realized. Diana's body was reacting profoundly. Her heart was racing. She was flushed red and radiated intense heat, longing for him to do so much more but knowing that she didn't deserve any of it.

Bruce pulled back, putting his face right next to hers. He gently tugged at her graceful chin, forcing his princess to look at him. She did so reluctantly.

"Because," he answered, taking a deep breath, "…as you may recall, I know what it's like to hurt someone you care deeply about. I'm familiar with how the regret eats you up inside and makes you hate yourself. But there is a way out. A wonderful woman taught me that."

Diana's heart skipped a beat, leaping into her throat. They locked eyes. Bruce saw that she was tearing up. She began to quiver with emotion as well. He took her hands in his.

"Touch me," he begged, echoing her words from more than a week ago.

"Oh, Bruce…" Diana moaned, crashing into his embrace. She hugged him tightly, as if clinging for dear life. Her head found its way to his shoulder before she buried it in the crook of his neck.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. He felt hot tears against his skin.

"Don't be," he said suavely.

She nuzzled urgently against him. "I don't know what came over me. I betrayed you. I doubted you. I…" she was cut off by her own sob.

Bruce returned the hug with equal intensity, running his fingers through her silky strands. "It's okay, I forgive you, Princess," he responded at great length. "It's really my fault. I could've told you what happened over the coms, but I was scared of people possibly finding out about us. It's a mistake I won't make again."

"No, I did it, the fault is mine," Diana said. "Besides, I'm the one who went and told her in the first place. I just…I was so joyous about it, I felt like I had to tell someone. In the past, we talked about everything."

If there was a true betrayal here, Bruce decided, it was Hippolyta's. Why couldn't she just be happy that Diana was so happy? It was people that did sick things such as driving loved ones apart and turning them against each other that had given Bruce such a cynical worldview in the first place. But that was neither here nor there. He didn't want to spoil the moment. At some point though, he reasoned, they were going to have to speak about it. For the time being, he put it out of his mind entirely.

Batman wrapped his black cape around the two of them. She sighed in absolute contentment. It reminded her of the way they had cuddled together under the blankets that fateful morning.

The couple was content to stay this way for a long time. Eventually, Diana broke the embrace. She pressed her lips to his, shadowy hair framing their faces. They were both enveloped by the other's darkness, seeming like two shades swirling together in ecstasy. Although it would not seem that way to an outside observer, both shades possessed an interior that was not so dark, an interior that burned even brighter when they were together.

Bruce and Diana dueled tongues and lips, becoming lost in their exploration of each other's mouths once more. An eternity seemed to pass before the lovers finally took a break, utterly breathless as their lungs burned for air.

Diana smiled brightly at him and he returned the gesture with equal enthusiasm. She seemed to have composed herself, transforming back into the person he knew and loved.

"So…I hear make-up sex is really good," Diana bluntly said.

Bruce's eyes went wide with shock, which only elicited more laughter from her. It seemed strange, but she was discovering that she liked having this kind of effect on him with her sexuality.

"We'll just have to find out," he responded.

She moaned, closing her eyes as she visualized what they would soon be doing. The fantasy made her suddenly very wet between the legs. Diana couldn't help but bite her lower lip in anticipation.

This sight tore at Bruce's mind, fraying the ends of his composure as pure arousal flooded his body. He yanked his gauntlets and cowl back on, taking her hand as he went towards the door. "Come on," he grunted. "We're going to the manor now."

"But my room is so much closer," Diana pouted seductively.

She had an excellent point, and right now, Bruce couldn't come up with an argument. God, he loved this woman. "Sounds fine to me." He released the door lock override with a simple keystroke.

"Oh…" Diana said, seeming disheartened.

"What's wrong?"

"Well, perhaps we'd better go separately," she answered, wiggling her hand out of his grasp.

Bruce simply held out his arm in invitation. Up until that moment, he had never imagined that any woman could look so happy. Diana's smile was so bright he was surprised that he wasn't struck blind.

She took his arm, leaning comfortably against him as the couple walked through the Watchtower's hallways in search of the privacy they so desperately craved. Diana was reminded of the happy couples she had observed while staking out that robbery with Batman, the couples that had sparked the jealousy within her that had, in turn, compelled her to confront him about their romance in the first place.

"Thank you," she whispered into his ear.

A devious smirk was painted on Batman's face all the way to her quarters.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Sorry that it took me so long to do this update. I just wanted to really focus on it and make sure that it turned out well, since this is such a crazy chapter. Anyway, I hope you fans enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

 **I don't DC, because if I did, things would be a lot different.**

Bruce sighed in contentment. Diana was curled up against his side, her head buried in his neck. He lay on his back, still-bandaged head resting on a pile of fluffy pillows. It was quickly becoming their favorite position to cuddle in after completely exhausting themselves from passionate lovemaking.

Diana's room was somewhat Spartan, but also had a touch of femininity. Weapons, armor, and shields of varying sizes and types adorned her walls. Art of the ancient Greek style, as well as the subtly different Themiscryan style, was on display as well. The decorations were sparse but tasteful. It was evident that both a woman and a warrior lived here, but few would have guessed they were the same person.

Shivers ran down Bruce's spine and reverberated through his body, keeping time with the hot breathing that tickled his skin. He stroked her back absentmindedly in response. This earned him a sleepy moan from Diana, who nestled more insistently against him. Bruce's mind drifted away from him.

He couldn't ever remember feeling this comfortable, this happy, this satisfied (either physically or emotionally) since his parent's deaths. It was astounding how much he had missed this kind of closeness. It had been exactly what he needed, and now that he had it, he wasn't going to let it go.

Bruce glanced down at the fearsome warrior that clung to him like he was the last warm coal on an icy world. She trusted him completely, feeling absolutely safe in his presence. To see someone to react that way to him was a totally new experience. He was used to being an intimidating specter, both criminals and those he tirelessly protected cowering in fear from him. He was used to being treated like the monster he masqueraded as. Bruce was constantly rejected by society, which either saw him as a malicious, supernatural spirit or an evil vigilante.

He appreciated this persona for the useful tool that it was, but he had never once imagined that one day someone would be able to see through that illusion, be comfortable with it, and reach the person he was deep inside. And the fact that it was an amazon, no less, was what amazed him most of all.

It was nice to have someone trust him as implicitly as Diana did. He had discounted the possibly of that happening long ago. Bruce had even convinced himself that he didn't need it, didn't even want it. Somewhere deep inside, Bruce knew that he had been aching for this all along. Indeed, he owed Diana a debt of gratitude.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

"Mmmm…for what?" Diana asked.

Bruce shrugged. "Just being you, I guess." He gingerly rustled around a bit.

"Oh, are you uncomfortable?" she asked, suddenly wary that she might be smothering him.

"Not at all," he said, shifting his position so he could wrap his arms around her. "You get as close to me as you like. In fact, I want you to hold on to me and never let go."

"I hope you're being metaphorical," Diana said. "It would be awkward to fight crime with my hands all over you." The couple chuckled lightly at her remark as she did as he requested. "You know, Bruce, I've been thinking something lately…"

"What's that?"

"My jealousy over your scars. I wanted to tell you earlier, but I was somewhat…distracted."

Bruce smirked. Indeed, she had been. "Go on."

"It's more than the scars. I'm jealous of your…absence of any special powers."

"I've never heard that one from a fellow superhero before," he commented.

"It's true nonetheless. Everything I am was gifted to me by my goddesses. My strength, my flight, my healing, my intellect, even my appearance. My victories are never truly mine. I never earned anything." Diana paused for a breath. She pushed on his chest, raising herself over him so that she could look at him in the eye. Bruce could tell that she was being extremely candid with him right now.

"But you, Bruce, everything you are, all of your victories, they are truly yours; you earn them," Diana went on. "You are self-made. You can somehow get by on your combat prowess, wits, intellect, willpower, and skill at goddess knows how many specialties."

"It's not as much fun as you think it is," Bruce responded, thinking of the time Croc had taken a massive bite into his shoulder and infected him with fear toxin.

It was Diana's turn to shrug. "Who knows? Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. But I do know that ever since being blessed by the Amazonian goddesses and taking up the mantle of Wonder Woman, I've longed for simpler times. Times when I perfected the art of combat and tactics, emerging victorious over my sisters through training, dedication, skill, and my own strength." Diana looked away in embarrassment, or perhaps dejection. Her gaze flit around for a while as she decided what to say next. "I used to live for that thrill, Bruce. It was who I was; it was my life. But I can experience that no longer. What I do here with the League and as a representative of Themiscyra, it's important and I love it, but it doesn't fulfill me. It doesn't replace what I used to have. Sure, I can stop a speeding missile with my bare hands, but I seldom get a chance to take up my sword and face an equal in battle. There isn't…there is no art in what I do, anymore."

Diana took a long sigh and reached out to cup Bruce's face in one of her hands. "But you, Bruce, have everything I miss. You represent the warrior aspect of our Themiscyran culture, a culture I don't feel I even embody anymore." She frowned. "That's my biggest reason for loving you." Her frown became a smile as she laughed sardonically. "In fact, sometimes I think you're a dark, male mirror of myself. Or at least…who I used to be."

Bruce was hit by her words like a splash of icy water to the face. He had had no idea she felt this way, but in retrospect, it made perfect sense. He had believed himself to be the only one who felt trapped by their responsibility, unable to see that the same thing was crushing her before his very eyes.

"Diana," Bruce said, getting into sitting position. "They picked you for a reason. Your goddesses and your people. They saw something inside you that made you more worthy than anyone else. You're not just an icon. I was taught the same lesson from someone very special to me."

The princess smiled. "Thank you. I know you're right, rationally. But I just can't shake the feeling. My people expect so much from me, even as an exile. I'm supposed to embody their ideals, but I don't believe in many of them anymore." Bruce nodded, he had expected as much. "In fact," Diana went on, "even when I was growing up, I felt isolated. I grew up as the only child on the island. Hades, I was the only one who was born of clay! You told me you didn't feel like a real person. The only reason I could show you otherwise is because I lived with that same fear for centuries."

Bruce leaned in and brushed a kiss against her lips. "Thank you for that," he whispered. "As for everything else, I think you will discover the answers in time. You've got plenty of it."

Diana nodded in acquiescence. "Indeed. And…thanks for listening. I'm sorry for bringing the mood down, though."

"Don't be," Bruce said. "You can talk to me. I'll listen. We're…kindred spirits, I think, you and I."

"You got that right," Diana said, tackling him down to the bed, albeit gently. She came in for a kiss. Their lips and tongues danced together for a while.

When they eventually separated, Bruce said, "You need to confront your mother about what happened."

Diana nodded solemnly. "I know. I need to make her see you for what you are, to make her understand somehow. Athena grant me the wisdom to figure that one out," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Maybe Aphrodite would be a more appropriate source of aid," he observed.

Diana seemed absorbed in her thoughts. "I do fear things could get ugly."

"We can handle it."

"I hope so." There was an awkward pause. Then the amazon warrior princess proceeded forward. "I'm going tomorrow after the new global warming summit. It got rescheduled after the Legion of Doom's attack on the last one."

"That's fine. Just promise me one thing, Princess," Bruce began suddenly. "Come by the manor tomorrow evening before you go. There's…a couple of matters to discuss."

Diana's eyes shot wide. "Is something wrong? Is it about us?"

"No, and yes…sort of. One of them is simply something you need to know, and the other is actually good news."

Her eyebrows furrowed, mulling it over. "Alright, but why not tell me know?"

"They're heavy matters that will keep us up, and we both desperately need some sleep." Bruce closed his eyes and rolled over defiantly.

Diana tried to mock pout, but was interrupted by a yawn. "Why do you always have to be right?" she exasperated.

A second later, Bruce felt his princess get into bed in front of him and wiggle herself into a spooning position.

* * *

The Batcave was dark and silent, as usual. Diana stepped off of the transport pad and into the gloom of the cavernous expanse. She'd just returned from the important summit she had been at nearly all day and was ready to see Bruce about…whatever it was that he wanted to talk to her about.

Truly, that man's ways were as strange and arcane to her as the unfathomable depths of Tartarus. The amazon princess had grown to trust him, though, learning that he did everything for a valid reason. At least, what Bruce saw as valid reasons.

Truth be told, she wasn't that bitter at him at all. It had pleased her to no end when Batman was caught emerging from her room by Shayera that morning. Word had spread like wildfire, causing him to become quite flustered. Diana had to suppress a laugh at the memory.

Her heels clicked as she made her way through the cave, glancing around to see if she could spot a glimpse of her dark knight. He was nowhere to be seen.

The glare of the Batcave's dim, phosphorescent light reflecting off of steel in her peripheral vision was her only warning of danger. With reflexes instilled by centuries of battle, Diana swiveled in the direction of the suspected threat. Before she even knew what was going on, her wrists were raised in defense.

Her keen senses told her subconscious that someone, or something, was flipping over her. The female fighter's wrists intuitively parried a quick series of strikes that were aimed at the head, neck and shoulders. Sparks filled the air as the attacker's metal weapon scraped futilely against Hephaestus' magic bracers. Harsh, metallic, staccato notes echoed over and over again in the cavern.

Diana spun with blinding speed, instinctively knowing where the assailant would land. What she saw was nothing short of a shock.

A young boy stood before her. He gripped a vicious-looking katana sword, stance projecting arrogance and valor. The boy was clearly a young teenager, maybe thirteen or fourteen. In spite of this, Diana saw a great deal of competence in him. She could tell that the boy had the mind and spirit of a true warrior.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here!?" The boy half-asked, half-barked. Despite the somewhat high tone of his voice, he somehow projected an aura of danger and authority. He was sorely mistaken if he thought that it would work on the likes of her, though.

Diana lowered her fists and casually put a hand on her hips, showing him that he didn't threaten her in the slightest. "I am Wonder Woman. I'm here to see…Batman." Until she was more sure of the situation, the last thing that the princess wanted to do was give away their secret identities.

"Is that so?" the boy asked inquisitively, raising an eyebrow. "How did you get here, then?

Diana scowled at him. "Enough questions. It's generally considered polite to at least exchange names before making demands of someone. For that matter, so is not attacking strangers on sight. Didn't your mother ever teach you some manners?"

The kid grit his teeth in annoyance, eyes narrowing to deadly points. "Don't talk about my mother!" he growled. "Now answer my questions."

Diana's lips twisted into a deeper scowl. She already had a hectic and stressful day at the summit, and now this insolent brat was attempting to command her. The fact that he had also attacked from the shadows only a few moments prior fueled her rage.

Her hand shot out and slapped away the sword. Or at least, tried to. The boy hopped backwards, dodging immediately out of her reach. Diana was impressed by his reaction time and agility, but was also infuriated at being thwarted in this manner. She raised her fists again, determined to teach him a lesson.

"Fine, then. If that's the way you want it…" she said.

The boy kicked off of a stalagmite, propelling himself through the air on her flank. As he passed by, he slashed twice with that katana of his. The sword found only metal bracers again. If she could stop bullets, she was sure as Hades going to parry sword strikes.

Still, she knew that caution was necessary. Her mystical powers did not protect her from slashing weapons, and unlike a bullet, a sword could be maneuvered with guile and unpredictability. Therefore, Diana decided to stand ground and ward off his attacks while she learned his fighting style.

The boy landed, instantly pivoted, and leaped again. The sword banged uselessly against Diana's metal armguards once more. This time, though, the stroke had come from a different angle. The boy was clever.

Over and over again, the young swordsman acrobatically assaulted the Amazon princess. He performed maneuvers that seemed to ignore the laws of gravity, twisting and gliding through the air gracefully. Cold steel flashed out with each pass or maneuver he attempted. To an outsider, it must have appeared as if a rainstorm of steel was coming down on the resolute super heroine.

At times the boy even dashed into the shadows, only to strike mercilessly with surprise advantage. Even with this boon, no hit was scored on the amazon princess. Her senses and reflexes were simply too keen to be overcome in this manner.

Eventually, the boy resorted to whatever tricks he could think of. A winged throwing weapon of some kind was removed from his belt and thrown at her in a looping arc. The ploy nearly worked, but Diana had seen that tactic before. It was foiled easily.

As the skirmish continued on, she pondered the familiarity of the whole situation. The projectile, it had almost resembled…a batarang? And of course, it had been used in a manner she had quite frequently witnessed from Batman. Come to think of it, many other things about this scenario reminded Diana of her dark lover. The boy's headstrong nature, confidence, calculated skill, and willingness to charge at what he likely knew was a full-blown metahuman…it was all so Bruce-like. Even the way he approached combat with her perfectly resembled him; staying mobile and out of reach rather than fighting toe-to-toe.

With a start, Diana suddenly recognized the boy's armor. She had seen it before, shortly after first coming to man's world. She had researched Batman extensively (out of mere curiosity, she had convinced herself at the time). One of the things she had learned was that Batman had trained young protégés that had all worn a very similar uniform to this one. The other suits were even right there on display in the cave.

"Stop!" Diana commanded. "I know who you are."

The boy crouched low, sword poised. "Is that so?" he asked. She noticed that he wasn't even panting or sweating yet.

"You are Robin, are you not?" Diana asked. "A new one, as far as I can tell."

"That's correct," the boy said. It looked like he was mulling something over. Arriving at a decision, he went on. "You're from the League, are you not? In that case I see no reason not to dispense with formalities. I am Damian."

Diana smiled despite Damian's strange behavior. He had merely wanted to test her combat capabilities. It was a desire that the stalwart warrior could understand, so she didn't blame him. It had been nice testing him as well. Truth be told, Diana had been itching for a good fight, especially after the day she'd had.

"You can call me Diana."

A subtle expression revealed Damian's surprise upon hearing her name. "Hmmm…you're good," he said. It was evident that he was not just talking about her technique, either. "I can see why my father likes you so much." Damian eyes her up and down. "He has an excellent taste in partners."

"Thank you…" the amazon began. She was unsure how to take such a blunt compliment. Outside of her relationship with Bruce and League business, she still knew so little about man's world's customs.

She suddenly froze up for a moment. Something Damian had said sent an icy chill down her spine. Had he really used the word 'father' to describe Bruce?

Diana crooked her head slightly in confusion. "Father?" she questioned. Perhaps it was merely a term of affection. Bruce had once described his relationships with the various Robins as 'fatherly'.

Damian didn't answer. He let out a fearsome battle cry and charged again, still not bored of sparing with the female warrior.

With a clatter of metal on metal, a black blur intercepted the blade, ruining Damian's attack. Both amazon and protégé whipped their heads in the direction the batarang had come from, and saw Batman angrily stomping in their direction.

"Damian! What are you doing?" Batman admonished.

The teenager smirked impishly. "You didn't tell me Diana and Wonder Woman are the same person."

Bruce came up beside his son and removed the mask, gathering his thoughts.

Diana broke the silence. "Well, at least I know what you called me here to discuss."

The caped crusader sighed. He felt terrible. This hadn't been the way he wanted her to find out. Truth be told, he knew he should have told her a long time ago, before things had gotten serious. Bruce only hoped that she wouldn't be too angry or get the wrong idea about him. She had a right to know, and if knowing meant she didn't want to be with him anymore, then so be it.

"Look, Princess, I wanted to tell you before, but in the midst of all the turmoil we were going through, it slipped my mind. I'm sorry." Bruce didn't have to try hard in order to look regretful.

Diana's hands found her hips. "You mean to tell me you've had a son all along and never told any of us? Never told me?" Her tone implied hurt, especially at the latter part.

"It's not like that, I promise. I only met Damian several months ago." As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say.

Her eyes widened in surprise, body tensing reflexively. "You mean to tell me you didn't even know that you had a son!? How many other sons do you have, or do you even know?" Diana yelled. She turned away from him and crossed her arms. "And I thought Bruce Wayne was the playboy…"

The words cut like razors. "No, it's not like that. Just give me a chance to explain. Please."

Diana considered the plea. "Who is the mother?" she spat bitterly.

"Talia Al'Ghul," Bruce answered without hesitation. The name sounded like a pronouncement of death.

"I don't know who that is."

Bruce sighed. "An evil woman I foolishly loved, once. I held out hope that she could be saved, but the corruption by her father ran too deep."

"Go on," Diana instructed.

Bruce told her the whole story, from his ill-fated romance with Talia, to Damian's childhood being trained by the League of Shadows, to his appearance in Gotham, to the importance of Damian in his new life.

"She's dead now, a victim of her own vile schemes," Bruce went on solemnly. He looked down at his feet in shame. "I'll admit I still felt something for her right up until the end…but it wasn't love. Not really. I didn't care for her as I do you, Diana. I've never been more certain of anything in my entire life. Her and I…it's buried deep in the past. You have to believe me; I'm totally committed to you now." He stood there, a hand on her shoulder, awaiting her judgement like a convict in a courtroom.

Diana turned, grabbed him by the back of the head, and brought their lips together forcefully. Bruce was taken aback by the unexpected response, but he returned the kiss with equal fervor. The couple heard an audible rustle and a disgusted groan as Damian vacated the area with great haste.

The kiss was broken. "I won't hold something against you that happened before we even met. I trust you Bruce." She looked at him and sternly added; "But no more secrets."

"Of course, Princess," Bruce said, nodding an agreement. He stroked her cheek and caressed her elaborately braided, jet-black locks. God, how he loved that hairdo.

"So…what was the other thing you wanted to talk about?" the Amazonian champion inquired.

"Well, I heard about J'ohn. I also heard through the grapevine that you feel the same way as him."

"Indeed," Diana clarified, looking away as she became lost in thought. "I just…I feel disconnected. From humanity, from man's world, I mean. I'm supposed to be the bridge between my people and the rest of the world. I'm supposed to be a defender of the planet. When I told J'ohn that he couldn't protect humans without understanding them, I realized what a hypocrite I had been to say that." She sighed in frustration.

"I had always assumed you'd feel that way eventually," Bruce said. "As such, I've been pondering the question of what to do about it for quite some time now."

"Oh?" she asked, heart igniting with delight. Diana could always count on her Bruce to be thoughtful of her.

He nodded. "Yes. And fortunately, this problem intersects with one we already have anyway."

"And what issue is that?"

"You and I can't date. Publically, I mean. At least, not as Bruce Wayne and Wonder Woman, for obvious reasons."

"Agreed," Diana said without hesitation. She cracked a slight smile, an idea forming in her mind about where this was going.

"So let's make you a secret identity," Bruce stated evenly.

"…And kill two birds with one stone. I like it." The Amazon grinned from ear to ear. She leaned in and brushed her lips across his cheek.

Bruce seized her hands delicately. "Look, I know you said you don't need a normal relationship with me. I can respect that, but I want to give it to you anyway. That said, I know the prospect might seem strange, or even uncomfortable to you. But please, give it shot."

"Why the hard sell, Bruce?" Diana said, crossing her arms behind his neck. "You've got me hook, line, and sinker."

The Dark Knight actually chuckled a bit. "That's not the only thing about me that's hard…"

The princess slapped him playfully. "Hera, you're incorrigible." A silent moment passed between them as they both struggled to contain their arousal. Both the amazon and the vigilante emerged victorious…for now.

"So, any ideas?" Diana asked.

Bruce lead her silently over to the Batcomputer. He tapped a button deliberately, causing the screen to come alive with images of legal documents. There were passports, birth certificates, resumes, and a plethora of other falsified information that could form the foundation of a secret identity.

Diana's eyes widened. It touched her that he had taken time away from his obsessive quest to do all this tireless research, just for her. "Wow…" she breathed.

"I've been working on names. What do you think of…Susan Eisenberg?"

Diana seemed to consider it for a second. "No. That's…not me. I was given the name 'Diana', and I will wear it proudly."

"No. It's too obvious of a connection to Wonder Woman," Bruce said.

Diana smirked. "I beg to differ. The world knows me as exactly that: Wonder Woman. I haven't been going around telling people my real name. Not even at charity events or diplomatic business."

"Smart woman," Bruce commented, tucking a stray hair over her ear. Diana shivered in excitement, cheeks becoming instantly flushed. "Besides, I'm sure there's more than one Diana who is gorgeous, intelligent, black-haired, fair skinned…" His hands drifted to her enticing waist. "…curvy,"

"Keep going…" she whispered, leaning deeper into his grasp, "…and you'll find yourself pinned down in my bed again."

"Nothing would make me happier." Bruce could feel his control slipping. Focus, he reminded himself. He tore himself away and turned to the keyboard. His fingers flew rapidly over the keys. An instant later, the name he had typed appeared on the screen.

"Diana Prince," she read. A laugh escaped her throat. It was obvious where he'd drawn the inspiration for the second name. "I like it. It has a nice ring."

"Are you sure?" he questioned. "You will become her."

"I'm sure." Her hand stroked his cheek affectionately.

"Done," he said, saving the change with a press of a button. "I'll get the ball rolling on this. We can iron out the details later."

Diana looked crestfallen. "After I confront my mother," she extrapolated. Her chest fluttered with nervousness. Ordinarily she wouldn't have admitted that feeling to anyone, but Bruce was the exception to that rule. "Truthfully, I'm nervous. I fear she may not listen to what I have to say, that she won't understand. I don't even know how to go into it…I'm filled with so many emotions. Rage, worry, loss, longing…"

"...and love?" Bruce finished.

"Yes."

"I wish I knew what to say, but I don't think I can help you. You need to do this on your own, and just be yourself. Tell her the truth."

Diana nodded. "I just wish you could come." Both knew that she wasn't referring to trouble in Gotham, but rather to the simple fact that his presence would only enrage Hippolyta further. Still, she imagined a time in the future when they could walk the beaches of Themiscyra hand in hand, when she could share this person who was such an important part of her life with her sisters and mother. Denying him for their sake felt like losing a part of herself. It was an awful feeling, knowing that she had to exclude him in such a manner, especially in light of the fact that he (along with the rest of the League) had welcomed her with such open arms, treating her like a respected equal. Truly, it had been the last thing she had expected when coming to man's world.

"It's not man's world," Diana mumbled. Her eyebrows were furrowing as she stared vacantly at a wall.

"What?" Bruce asked.

The Amazonian princess shook her head. What she was about to say contradicted her upbringing, her sense of identity, and culture. Nevertheless, she was going to say it anyway because she believed it to be the truth.

"I was just waxing philosophical," she provided him, meeting his gaze. He was eager to listen. "When I left the island, I came as an embodiment of my ideals…rather, Amazonian ideals. I came thinking this world was a corrupt and sinful place."

"But you wanted to defend it anyway."

She nodded. "Yes, I did. I reasoned even a sick place deserved protection, or how else would it have a chance to heal? And in many ways, yes, it is corrupt and sinful. But the male sex is not the source of the cancer that plagues it." Diana looked away again, troubling ideas tumbling around in her brain.

"What I have experienced since then has shown me that fact. This world has accepted me as one of its own, something I couldn't have imagined or even prayed for. That's why I cannot call it man's world in good conscience any longer. It is my world, too, and I am not a man."

Bruce hugged her to his chest. Her words were beautiful and true. He couldn't have been more proud of her than he was right at that moment. But at the same time, he could guess the source of her frustration; she felt out of touch with her people.

"You can change their minds, tell them what you told me. You are their princess, so surely they look up to you. Besides, if anyone can do it, it's you," Bruce said.

"Thank you. And yes, many do. But there are many who do not. Themiscyran politics are actually rather complex…and dangerous."

"Just be careful, Diana."

She had long since realized that he acted so protective of her out of love, as opposed to a lack of confidence in her ability to handle herself. She could imagine what horror he must be going through, knowing that she would be thousands of miles away from him, confronting a person who fiercely believed that they should not be together, believed Bruce to be a monster. And the worst part was, Bruce would be powerless to help her.

"Don't worry. I won't let her take me away from you. That's not happening." She was adamant about this and it showed. It was almost enough to assuage his fear.

"You'd better go," Bruce groaned.

Diana nodded, hesitantly pulling herself away from his grasp. "When I'm done, I'm coming right back here. You have my word."

Bruce smiled faintly at her. She returned it, then turned around and strode to the teleporter pad.

* * *

A dark storm blew over the sea that surrounded Themiscrya. Diana could see it, could feel it all around her. It was as if the weather itself mirrored the conflict that she anticipated. Lightning stabbed violently through the sky, dark clouds choked the air, and the waters roiled menacingly.

Up ahead, the floating princess could see the miles-long area that the storm surrounded in a suspicious globe, but did not dare intrude. She knew that just inside that magical shield, the weather was infinitely more calm, peaceful, and perfect; the blessing of the five goddesses to the amazon people.

Another lightning bolt crackled nearby. Diana rocketed towards the safe zone, eager to seek shelter from the killing power of the electrical strikes. A moment later, she burst through the wall of dark air and into the sunshine of the paradise island.

Here, waves lapped gently at sandy shores, the water crystal clear and clean. The atmosphere was humid, but not uncomfortably so. The temperature was pleasant.

Diana had almost forgotten what it was like. Breathing deeply of the fresh air, she remembered why she loved this place so much. It was her first home, the place she had been raised in, trained in, lived and loved and laughed in.

However, it was not her only one, she reminded herself. And that was why she was here today, wasn't it?

She glided closer to the shore, hovering right above one of the beaches. Strangely enough, there were no women there. Confused, she flew into the main thoroughfare of the capital, finally seeing people. They toiled, talked, or fought, but there were so many fewer than she remembered.

Dismissing this information, Diana entered the main palace where she guessed her mother awaited her. Each marble step that she ascended was like a surge of will that pushed back her trepidation.

It was not long until she spied her mother's honor guard. They stood perfectly still, at attention. When she passed the first one, the woman said "The Queen awaits you in the audience chamber." Diana nodded, but did not respond. She kept walking.

Finally, Diana stood before her mother in the massive, central chamber. Hippolyta sat atop a perfectly white, perfectly polished marble throne. The Queen's posture was stiff and tense. She wore her usual white robes, just as the rest of the amazons did.

"My heart is filled with light at your return, Diana. For a time, I feared that foul Batman creature had gotten the better of you. I almost mustered my amazons for war. I see now that my fears were misplaced." Hippolyta's voice was regal, but slightly strained. She worried for what might have happened in the past few days.

Diana wracked her mind for any clue as to how to respond. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that the emotion she felt the most was anger. Her mother betrayed her, and she needed to know it.

The princess frowned at the queen. She shook her head in amazement.

Concern played out across Hippolyta's face. "What's wrong, my child? Are you alright?" Her eyes narrowed. "What did he do this time?"

Diana had an answer on her lips immediately. "It's not what he did that troubles me. It's what you did, mother!" The last word was hissed accusatorily. "Do you even know?"

"Diana, I have no idea what you could possibly be accusing me, your own mother, of." Hippolyta's eyes darted covertly to the guards at her left and right, reminding them of the oath of silence they'd been forced to swear.

"You lied to me. You lied to your own daughter and turned her against the man she loves!" Diana shouted.

"Watch your tone, daughter," the Queen warned sternly. "And I'll have no talk of this 'loving men' nonsense. Divorce it from your mind." She paused momentarily. "As for these accusations of false witness, I will only say that what I told you was the full and complete truth. Batman attacked me and my honor guard. They've all succumbed to their injuries, save Artemis. He must be brought to justice for his crimes. I sincerely hope that you dealt it properly, as I instructed."

Diana crossed her arms, desperate to keep her fury in check. She spoke as calmly as she could, which was still not very calm. "Fotini, Alkyone, Melina, and of course, Artemis. These are the warriors you had with you that night."

Hippolyta's eyes shot wide, she clutched the hand rests of the throne, and grit her teeth. "How…" she began to ask.

"His cowl lenses took video of everything that happened that night," Diana spat viciously. "I saw the whole thing, mother. By Hera, you're a liar! You went there to intimidate him into breaking it off with me, and when he didn't back down, you ordered his death!"

The Queen pinched her nose in frustration. Meanwhile, her free hand that still grasped the edge of the throne was turning pale. "I know when I've been caught," she began. "Yes, I lied to you, but I did it to protect you, Diana. I only had your best interest…"

"No you didn't!" Diana shouted. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. She puffed herself up in indignation. "If you had truly cared, you would have taken my feelings into account! Do they even matter to you at all?!"

"Of course they do, Diana," Hippolyta intoned tenderly. "But in this case, your feelings are misplaced," she said, tone growing dark and malicious, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Diana shook with rage, muscles and tendons flexing. All at once, she exploded.

"Don't you dare tell me about my feelings! You don't even understand them, don't understand what I've been through! I love Bruce, and you, 'mother', turned me against him." She stepped forward, a finger jabbing out at the seated queen. Spittle flew as she heedlessly raged. "I nearly killed him! I gave him a bad concussion, a bruised throat, and fractured ribs for Hera's sake! When I…" Diana was wracked by a sudden sob. "When I realized what I'd done, what had really happened, it broke me. I can't even describe to you the horror that clawed at my heart, that ate me out from the inside." She paused to wipe tears away, her voice cracking with emotion. "Do you even care?" she asked softly.

"You know very well that I care. I'm just doing what's best for you!" the Amazonian queen shouted back. She stood up, clutching her scepter. "That vile man has corrupted you, poisoned your brain, seduced you into the twisted ideology of man's world. By your own admission to me, he defiled your body, for Hera's sake, Diana!" Hippolyta shook her head. "How far you have strayed from the ideals I tried to instill in you, the ideals of our people." She sighed in resignation.

"You're the one who's corrupt, mother! Why can't you see that? Why do you have to be so goddess-damned blind?! If bigotry and hatred is the amazon way, then I renounce our code entirely!"

A cacophony of gasps echoed throughout the audience hall. Honor guards twitched in surprise, hands covering agape mouths. Silence settled over the area as her words hung dangerously in the air.

Hippolyta quivered with fury, cheeks reddening. "HOW DARE YOU!" she screamed. "I've done nothing but protect you, even if you so foolishly think otherwise, petulant child! And if you're so eager to forego our ways, then go ahead." She spat the words like venom and raised her scepter into the air above her. "I, Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, hereby petition the five goddesses to revoke the status of Wonder Woman from Diana of Themiscrya, and to strip her of the divine blessings you have bestowed upon her!"

As the words of her pronouncement echoed and died, silent thunder crackled through the room, gathering around Diana, who took up a fighting position, steeling herself.

"She is our champion no more," Hippolyta commented.

The gathering energy seemed to waver, as if deciding whether or not to grant the Queen's request. It fluctuated back and forth, surging between the princess and the queen. There was a mystic, invisible battle being fought there, in that hall. It was a battle of magic, wills, women, and goddesses. For a few tense moments, it was unclear which of the two royal females had the support of the Five.

At great length, the magic gathered around Diana. She instantly felt her powers begin to wane, the divine blessings being peeled away one by one. Still, it did not happen all at once. Her super strength drained slowly, some force trying to aid her by resisting the revocation of her status. Still though, it was clear the verdict was overwhelmingly in Hippolyta's favor.

"What's happening?" Diana asked.

"You are no longer Wonder Woman, no longer our champion, nor are you are the envoy to man's world. That position should be filled by one who has more respect for what that title represents. Surrender your stolen armor, now."

"Never," Diana growled.

Hippolyta sighed. "Please, don't make this any harder than it needs to be," she pleaded.

Diana said nothing, merely striking the best warrior's stance as she could muster. As it was, she looked quite fearsome.

"Amazons, detain her," the Queen commanded weakly.

All at once, the elite honor guard charged towards her. There were a half dozen in immediate range, but Diana knew that more would emerge to face her soon. Although she was outnumbered and would eventually fall, she was not outmatched. Individually, she was by far the island's best warrior. That was a fact Diana intended to remind her sisters of.

She leaped into action, ducking, dodging, kicking, punching, and grappling. Her attacks flowed as freely as quicksilver. Diana used every technique she had ever learned, even some she had invented herself. She had also trained some of the guards, a boon which allowed her to predict and counter their moves. Her strength was still partially in play as well, allowing her to dominate the battlefield. She disarmed weapons and tossed aside both shields and living amazons.

Warriors crumpled all around her, defeated by her superior skill, but more and more came. Horribly outnumbered, they ran her ragged. Constantly fighting enemies on all sides was bleeding Diana's stamina rapidly. The fact that her magical endurance was fading as well was certainly not helping either. As such, her moves grew sloppy. She took blows that did more and more damage as time went on, her blunt impact resistance absorbing less force every time.

Hippolyta turned away from the scene of carnage, her heart breaking at the sight of her beloved daughter being hurt. She knew it was necessary, but that did not make it any easier to watch.

Soon, Diana was bruised and bloody. She fought on as best she could. When it became apparent that the princess was weakening, the warrior women seized her limbs in tight holds, immobilizing her. She twisted and thrashed, but did not have the energy or the means to escape. She was beaten.

The Queen finally glanced down at Diana, now that the battle was over. She was wounded, but only superficially. Her bruises and minor cuts would heal. Her gorgeous ebony locks framed her face in a tangled mess. Diana's body was slick with sweat and she gasped for air, chest heaving.

"Take her to the tower of mediation and lock her there," the Queen commanded. "Guard her carefully and allow no chance of escape. She is to rest and think on what has transpired here today."

"Yes, my Queen," responded the highest ranking officer that was still standing. She wasn't very high ranking at all.

"And remember, Diana is still your princess. That title has not been revoked. Treat her with the dignity and respect that she deserves."

"As you command, my Queen." The officer gestured the soldiers restraining her to carry out the command. They began to do so, taking it slow in order to contain the raging Diana. There was still some fight in her.

"Wait," Diana said. The women carrying her hesitated an instant.

"What more can you say to disappoint me?" Hippolyta asked dejectedly.

"The amazon people have lost their champion," Diana stated. "And you, Hippolyta, have lost your daughter."

The Queen's shoulders sagged. "Take her away," she commanded, her normally authoritative voice cracking to such a degree it was almost unrecognizable. There was no energy in her voice, only defeat.

As Diana was carried away, and the unconscious guards were treated for their injuries, Hippolyta hid her face. Hot tears were sliding down her cheeks, and she didn't want to be seen that way.

"I'm sorry, my little sun and stars," she sobbed.

 **Author's Note: Have no fear, this is not the end of the saga. There will be more, I promise you that.**

 **Also, did anyone get the movie reference I made?**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: I had so much fun writing this chap. Enjoy, people!**

 **Let's see...nope. Do not own anything. Awww...bummer. :(**

The Batwing sliced through the frigid night air, hurtling at several hundred miles per hour in the direction of one particular island. It hadn't been that difficult for Batman to locate Themiscrya. In fact, he'd known exactly where it was for quite some time. All one had to do was look for the suspicious area in the middle of the sea where no electromagnetic signals could go. An invisible object wasn't that invisible if everything around it could be seen.

"Superman to Batman. Come in, Batman," the man of steel's voice crackled over Batman's communicator.

He briefly considered ignoring Superman's hail, but ultimately decided against it. If Clark really wanted to say something, he could have easily found him. Batman didn't want the other superhero interfering in this matter.

"I'm here," he curtly responded.

"We're in a bit of a sticky situation here and could really use your tactical advice," Superman said.

"Get someone else to do it. Maybe Terrific or Palmer. I'm busy. Trouble in Gotham."

"I'm sure they can do the job, but I'd rather have you." Clark paused for a second, as if checking something. "Wait a minute, you're not in Gotham! The Watchtower computer says your communicator is on the edge of Themiscyran space. What are you doing there?"

Batman sighed deeply. He didn't want to tell Kal-el the truth, but he figured that the other man had it pretty much figured out anyway.

"Look, Diana's in trouble. I have to go help her," he answered stiffly.

"What are you talking about? She's on the island, isn't she?"

"Yes."

"Well then, she's fine. That's her home. What possible reason could you have for thinking that she's not safe there?"

"Call it a hunch."

An audible sigh from Superman came over the radio channel. "There's something you're not telling me, isn't there? Or are you just so overprotective of Diana that you can't stand the idea of her having a life outside of you?" There was a long pause, then the man of steel sighed again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. It's just that we are in a very stressful situation right now, and things haven't exactly been going well between me and Lois lately."

"It's alright," Batman said, manipulating the batwing controls so that the vehicle would stop. He had arrived at his destination.

"I do think you should at least send Shayera or Canary."

"No. This is something I need to handle myself."

"Alright," Superman cautiously acquiesced. "Are you sure you're right about this…hunch though?" When Batman didn't answer, Kal just went on. "I suppose I have no choice but to trust you. Just be careful, Bruce."

The Dark Knight clicked off his communicator, shutting the conversation down without another word.

"So, what's the plan?" Damian asked from the passenger seat. The Batwing was hovering silently in midair; they had arrived at their destination, yet nothing could be seen. Not even the sensor readings showed any sign of landmass ahead.

"We swim," Bruce answered simply.

"What?" Damian asked in shock. "Why? That doesn't make any sense. Wouldn't it be way easier to glide down there?"

"Yes, but this is a stealth mission, and the island is magically warded. They'll know as soon as we cross into their airspace. That's why we are going under it."

"Aren't there sharks down there, though?"

"I guess you didn't notice when I had the Batwing drop a huge pile of raw meat into the water a few miles back. Trust me, those sharks will be busy," Batman said, smirking.

"Clever," Damian said, nodding with respect.

Bruce punched a few more commands into the control console, raising the glass shielding for both cockpits. "Do I need to go over the plan again?" he asked.

Damian rolled his eyes impatiently. "I don't think so. Let's go." A moment later, the boy back flipped off the edge of the vehicle, using his high tech cape to glide down to the water below.

"Kids," Batman muttered, mirroring his son a moment later.

The duo plunged down into the water. The iciness burned their skin and sapped their strength, but the two heroes were made of tougher stuff. They battled against the currents and waves, flying through the waters like Olympian swimmers. It was not long before they had emerged on the sandy, southernmost beach of the island.

They glanced quickly around, making sure they hadn't been observed. There were a few women swimming in the nude that night, but luckily the darkness cloaked their bodies from view.

Batman ignored their presence and stalked over to a cluster of shrubs and trees. Damian on the other hand, peered at the amazons, trying to catch a glimpse. "Damian!" Batman whispered at the teenage boy. "Focus."

The kid in question shook his head, snapping himself out of it. "Right…" he said, following his father into the cover.

In truth, he didn't blame his son too much for his behavior. It was easy to see how this place could be very overwhelming to a young teenage boy with surging hormones. He'd been extremely wary of bringing Damian with him, and not just for that reason, but he knew he needed a second set of eyes on this mission, regardless.

Once concealed, the two crime fighters activated their gauntlet computers and set them to scan for the tracking device that Bruce had planted on Diana. It had been more than a loving caress when he had been playing with her hair braid two days ago. Attached to one of Diana's hair ties, the device should have gone totally unnoticed. Now it was a simple matter of locking on to the signal.

Unfortunately, the magic that protected Themiscrya from the rest of the world also cut him and Damian off from the Batcomputer, Watchtower scanners, numerous Wayne Tech satellites, and Batwing computers that Bruce normally used in these sorts of situations. This meant that the signal had to be scanned for manually with their wrist devices. The computers, being smaller and weaker, were severely limited on scanning range. Thus, he and Damian would have to split up and try to find where she was located.

Saying nothing more, Batman shot his grappling cable at nearby building and ascended upwards. Damian choose another building and did the same.

"Alright, ladies," the amazon captain said, addressing the assembled soldiers under her command. "Remember the queen's orders. We're on high alert. Patrol in groups of three or more. Keep your eyes on the sky, and look out for a bat-like shadow. I want check-ins every fifteen minutes."

The warrior women saluted and left to carry out the orders. They were entirely unaware of the cowled and caped vigilante looming over them from the edge of barracks. Batman observed them carefully, taking stock of what he was up against.

Most of the amazons were armed with large war-bows. Every last one of them carried at least one melee weapon. Their armor was thick and heavy. They were caparisoned for war. And even worse, he mused, they knew exactly how to deal with him. This was going to be harder than he thought.

Bruce refused to be deterred. He liked a challenge.

Smirking, the Dark Knight stealthed his way across the rooftops. The architecture here was very unlike the Gotham Skyline he was so used to. Many of the buildings were domed or slanted in some way, which made the going difficult. Additionally, they were usually much farther apart than they were in the crowded city of his origin.

Batman was forced to stalk his way across the island extremely slowly, moving at a snail's pace at times. Darting between shadows was extremely risky, but also totally necessary. He had to be fast, yet silent. When grappling or using his line gun between buildings, he had to time the maneuvers perfectly, lest he be seen. Guards were everywhere, their keen, practiced eyes searching every nook and cranny for him. And to make matters worse, he couldn't take any of them down without inevitably being found out fifteen minutes later.

It was a nearly impossible challenge, but Batman had already defied impossible odds more times than he could count.

Soon it was apparent that his scanner was picking up nothing. Though he had been undetected so far, it was taking far too long for him to get around, severely limiting how much ground he could cover. Nearly two hours had already passed, and he hadn't picked up the signal yet. This night was Batman's one chance to save Diana; he'd already ignored Gotham too much. It was time to try something else.

Batman needed to achieve some altitude. The higher he could get, the better the chance was that his computer would pick something up. Glancing around, the dark knight spied a massive building. It was easily the tallest construction he had seen so far. It was also the most heavily defended. Obviously, it was the Queen's Palace.

Infiltrating it would be risky, but Batman was more than willing to take that risk. He was not scared of Queen Hippolyta. Why should he be? He was fear incarnate, he was the night, he was vengeance, he was…Batman.

His mind made up, the dark shadow snuck over to the palace and grappled onto the first lip. The whole thing was composed of many tiers, reaching elegantly into the sky like an ivory statue.

Batman quickly realized that guards were patrolling the exterior as well as the interior. He knew that his grapple would make too much noise, so he had no choice but to climb the old-fashioned way. It was an absolutely grueling process that constantly left him on the brink of discovery. There were much more close calls on his way up than his heart would have preferred. Only a true grandmaster of stealth, a living shadow itself, could possibly have made it to the top without being seen. Luckily, Batman fit both descriptions perfectly.

With one final heave, the bat pulled himself over the last edge. There, atop the final level, he stood triumphantly, his black cape flapping in the wind of an even blacker night.

There was some kind of balcony here that extended from a spacious bedroom that befit a queen. Luckily, the woman in question was not here at the moment.

The ceiling was made of glass, ostensibly so that Hippolyta could gaze at the stars above. Not wanting to risk shattering it and drawing attention to himself, Batman decided to simply scan from the balcony. He turned his back to the serene room and faced the open night. With a quick tap, he summoned the holographic interface and began the search.

While the machine toiled away, he let his mind drift a little. Diana had clearly been detained, or else she would have flown out of here by now. For that matter, what would have stopped her from flying away instead of letting herself be captured? They must have bound her up in rope to cancel her powers.

What was her mother thinking, ordering treatment like that? Was she going to keep her daughter like that forever, tied up and sequestered in some dungeon, all to keep him away from her, to keep her from living her own life and making her own choices? It was pure insanity. Bruce could be protective, Batman even more so. Yet, he would have never considered treating Dick, Jason, Tim, Barbara, or Damian that way.

A beep informed Batman that the scan was complete. He had the coordinates of the tracker. Based on what he was seeing; Diana was at the top of a different tower halfway across the island.

He quickly typed a few commands into the console. After a slight delay, Damian answered his call. He was face to face with his son through the holographic interface.

"Damian, I've found her. Sending you the coordinates now."

"Got them," Damian said. "I'll start heading there now."

"Be careful. It's not a race. I don't want you getting hurt."

"As you wish, father."

"Don't go engage or go inside until I get there," Bruce said.

Suddenly, he saw Damian recoil in fear and surprise. "Watch out!" he shouted, pointing behind his father.

Batman's reflexes kicked into overdrive. He ducked and somersaulted backwards. As he did so, he heard something cutting through the air where his head had been only a moment before. From what he could see from his inverted position, it was some kind of discus. Additionally, he saw Hippolyta herself charging at him with a sword drawn.

He continued the roll, coming straight for her. The queen raised her sword, yelling a battle cry as she prepared to chop down at the vulnerable bat.

At the last possible second, he propelled himself off of the ground with his hands, feet angling upwards. He came up in a reverse dive, booted feet driving heavily into Hippolyta's stomach. The blond amazon grunted and stumbled backward, spewing air out of her lungs.

Batman was on his feet nearly instantly. He wheeled to face his opponent and saw that she was already recovered, coming in again with her sword.

"Leave her alone!" Hippolyta barked, trying to run him though.

Batman crossed his wrists and caught the blade in his gauntlet spikes, thrusting the weapon up over their heads. The clever female adapted quickly, leaning in, pivoting, and striking Batman in the face with an elbow. He felt his nose break and spew blood, stars dancing before his eyes as he fell backwards.

Batman had thought ahead. At the same time, his feet kicked out and snagged Hippolyta's, causing her to lose her balance. He used the momentum of his own fall to drag the queen to the ground with him.

Each combatant knew how to fall correctly, so they both landed without incurring further injuries. They were on their backs for no more than a split second before leaping to their feet again. Blood poured from Batman's nose and Hippolyta's side burned from the cracked ribs, but each ignored their wounds.

Batman's keen senses informed him that footsteps were rapidly approaching the door to Hippolyta's personal chambers. Reaching down to his utility belt, he pulled out three bombs and threw them at the amazon queen.

It was a trifle for her to dodge the attack, which was exactly what Batman had been counting on. She ducked, allowing the devices to slam into the doorway behind her.

"You missed, mortal," she taunted.

Batman simply glared at her. "Think again."

Hippolyta circled him, allowing herself to keep an eye out while glancing in the general direction of the door. The projectiles were exploding, causing a foamy substance to cover the door. It quickly hardened, forming a thick wall of solid glue and jamming the hinges.

The honor guard outside the room banged against the sealed doorway. "We're coming, your highness!" one of them called through the obstruction. It would obviously hold for a while, but not forever. The queen simply need to occupy the bat until she could receive aid.

She grinned. "Well played. But it won't save you, bat!" The last word was spat like acid.

"We'll see," Batman said. He ran in, trying to take her legs out from under her. She jumped over his attack. He hadn't expected to really take her down that way. It was merely a test. They circled again, sizing each other up.

"Queen takes Knight," Hippolyta boldly proclaimed, coming in for an attack.

"I don't think so," Batman said, easily evading the strike.

"Wisdom and experience wins every time," she continued, still slashing and stabbing.

"Not necessarily," Batman responded, continuing to counter her attacks.

Hippolyta grunted in anger, redoubling her efforts to slay him. The battle went on at a breakneck pace, every moment filled with constant action, a series of successive moves without any interruptions. Both warriors suffered wounds. Her eye was blackened and he was thrown into a wall, hyper extending some of his tendons in the process.

The Queen and The Knight were evenly matched. The struggle was a perfect tie. Yet, Batman knew that the tie would be broken as soon as her guards smashed down the door. He was running out of time. Worse, he knew that needed to incapacitate Hippolyta in order to prevent her from tipping off the guards and organizing a successful defense of Diana. It was becoming obvious that as long as she was aware of his presence and still conscious, she would never stop being an obstacle between him and his loved one.

Batman swooned, fighting to stay on his feet and keep his wits about him as he reeled from the heavy impact with the marble wall. He absolutely refused to give up on Diana no matter what. With that goal in mind, he brutally clawed his way out of the haze his mind was in.

It was too late. Some kind of rope encircled his body, pinning his arms to his sides. It was the Lasso of Truth! Batman had no idea how she'd suddenly gotten it in her grasp, but that didn't change the fact that he was firmly bound by the magical cord. Truly, it appeared that it was all over for him.

The queen, holding the other end, grinned from ear to ear as she approached the bat. "Well," she began, "it looks like I've caught myself a bat." Her lips twisted into a frown. "You're finished. Now, tell me what you did to my daughter to make her think she loves you." The rope glowed with mystical energy.

"As I told you before, your highness; I confess to nothing."

Hippolyta nodded her head wryly. "Fair enough. The lasso only compels one to speak the truth as they see it. Clearly, your twisted, inferior, arrogant male mind refuses to accept the wrong of what you have done. But what I can do is force you to submit." She yanked tightly on the rope, trigging more of it's magic. Batman sunk to his knees.

In a few moments, the amazons would bust through the glue-encrusted portal. He had to do something right now, but he was trapped. The magic of Hestia infused his mind, her tendrils slinking into the dark depths of his psyche.

Batman had long ago mastered his own mind, forging it into an unstoppable weapon. He had to, in order to conquer his fears, loss, longing, and all the other human emotions that interfered in his quest for justice. Yet, deep down in the lowest, blackest caverns of his brain, those dark emotions festered hideously. In those depressing places, the places he himself had wallowed in for years, even a goddess feared to tread.

Batman grunted, gritting his teeth in determination. "No."

"What!?" Hippolyta barked, eyes going wide with utter shock. "No one can resist the power of the lasso. You are compelled by its magic to bow before me! Submit!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Every fiber of his being strained against the lasso's power. White hot pain lanced through his body and mind as his will opposed that of Hestia herself. His eyes became bloodshot and his veins bulged grotesquely.

Batman began to slowly stand, legs violently shaking with the unbelievable exertion. It felt like a mountain hung from his kneecaps. The feat he was attempting was beyond even his considerable limits, beyond the limits of any mortal man. However, Batman had long ago mapped out his limitations…and consequently ignored them.

The Dark Knight rose to his feet. He planted them firmly, striking a proud, intimidating pose. In that moment, he appeared to Hippolyta as less of a man, and more of a supernatural force. Who was this being who defied the commands of a Greek goddess, she wondered in abject awe.

"You have no power over me, Hippolyta," he droned.

"How…" she weakly began. "How is this possible? You cannot…it's not possible! What are you, a demon of Hades?"

Batman glared at her. "I am simply a man. We mortals are stronger than you know," he growled menacingly.

He grabbed the rope, tugging on it with all of his might. The pain reared its ugly head, trying to shut down his muscles. For Batman, pain did not work against him. It worked for him.

The Amazonian queen, still too overwhelmed by what she had just witnessed, could not outmatch him. With a mighty heave, she was pulled towards the looming vigilante. She lost her footing, stumbling clumsily.

Batman dashed forward, grabbing a pellet and tossing it towards her face. The object exploded, causing green gas to envelope her head. The woman couldn't think fast enough to hold her breath, and sucked in the air. She swooned, the anesthetic gas shoving her into unconsciousness.

Before she could hit the ground, Batman was there to catch her. He cradled the queen gently despite what she had tried to do to him. Perhaps she would come to realize the error of her beliefs he showed her tact and mercy.

Batman untied himself from the rope and took Hippolyta over to the grand bed. He placed her there gently, resting her head on the pillows. The last thing she heard before slipping away into sleep was "Knight takes Queen, your highness."

Right at that moment, three Amazonians burst into the room, causing wooden chips and fragments of hard glue to scatter everywhere. They gasped in unison. "Unhand her, beast!" one roared. They all leapt in with their weapons drawn for the kill.

Not wanting to get tangled up in another fight, and seriously concerned about Damian's safety, he sprinted towards one of the windows. With a great leap, he dived right through it and into the cold night.

The amazons were right on his heels the entire time, but they could not catch him. A sword passed within a hair's breadth of his spine as he began his fall.

A guard leaned over the side, peering down at him as he dive-bombed straight for the ground. "Coward," she commented. "He'll be a bloody paste soon enough."

Yet, as she watched, the man came out of the fall with the black cape outstretched like a bat's wings. He angled himself upwards, catching a current of air as his momentum carried him swiftly and safely over the Themiscyran cityscape.

"By the gods…" the woman muttered.

Meanwhile, Batman was re-activating his wrist computer again. "Damian, are you alright?" he asked, soaring through air in the direction of Diana's tower. It looked more like falling slowly, as opposed to flying. When there was no answer over the vid screen, Bruce's heart leapt into his throat. He'd been a damn fool to bring Damian here. Better for him to have been decapitated by Hippolyta than get his son killed. At least Gotham would have been left in good hands.

"Damian!" Bruce shouted desperately.

There was a crackle, then his son appeared inside the hologram. "I'm here," he answered. His voice was strained and he panted heavily. It looked like he was in the process of running across building tops at the moment. In the distance, Bruce could hear booted feet rapidly approaching.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine, father. The amazons are after me," he went on. An arrow whizzed past his head, another skipping off a marble corner as he was ducking around it.

"Where are you? I don't see you anywhere."

"I lured them away from the tower. Go get her, dad."

"Lose them, now!" Batman shouted authoritatively.

"But dad, they'll…"

"Do it, son," he ordered. Bruce paused, tactical mind working at a breakneck pace to come up with some kind of plan, and fast.

The problem was, he had a decision to make. Allow Robin to put himself in extreme danger to give him a better chance of saving Diana, or take the brunt of their attention on himself so that Robin could escape?

At least they wouldn't harm their own princess, he thought. Besides, two will have a better chance than one. He made up his mind, the plan coming together.

"I'll get there first. Diana will fly us to the Batwing. I want you to double back and take a circular route to the beach."

"As you wish," was Damian's curt reply.

"And Robin," he added, "stay safe."

Batman cut the call abruptly. Amazons were appearing all over the rooftops, armed with bows. From the looks of it, the majority had spotted him. He didn't have time to talk.

Angling his cape, Bruce wheeled and twisted through the air, gliding in unpredictable circles and other chaotic patterns to throw off the warrior women's aim. The ploy seemed to work, as most of the arrows skewed harmlessly past him. However, several did puncture his cloak, creating semi-large holes that ruined the fabric's ability to sustain flight. He was losing altitude.

Even worse, a group of archers had decided to head him off by sprinting to another building that was taller and further along his declining flight path. It was clever choice. Batman had prepared for that, though.

Right as the women emerged from a trapdoor, he threw a cluster of smoke bombs right into their midst. The gas was laced with a special, synthesized version of fear toxin that was not designed to increase violent tendencies. They weren't going to tear their eyes out or kill each other, but neither would they be a problem for a quite a while.

Batman was nearing the tower, but he was also nearing the ground. Instead of landing at the base of the tall building, he decided to perch himself on a small temple that was directly below him. Angling his feet forward in preparation for the landing, Batman descended towards the structure.

Suddenly, a bowmistress popped out of cover and let loose an arrow at Batman. Having no time to dodge, he threw a fan of batarangs straight at the incoming projectile. One of the throwing weapons curved through the air and impacted it on the side, skewing its direction, but not stopping it. Instead of piercing Batman's chest and killing him instantly, the arrow lanced right through the bicep of his left arm. Batman growled as his blood sprayed and the muscle burned with horrible pain.

Several of the other batarangs had completely missed the woman. Luckily, a couple of them had slammed into her, disorienting the amazon for a split second. That narrow window was sufficient for Batman to land right on top of her, forcing her to the ground with the living missile that was his body. She stumbled and fell backwards, head slamming onto the floor. She was knocked unconscious, her helmet shielding her from anything worse than that.

Cries were coming from all around. Batman took a quick second to assess his condition anyway. He couldn't flex his arm; the muscle was jammed by the arrow and was too badly damaged in any case. The object couldn't be removed, as then he might bleed to death. As it was, lifeblood trickled out from the edges. At least the appendage wasn't broken, though. His combat armor had absorbed enough force to prevent that.

Batman snapped the off both sides of the arrow so that only small wooden shafts protruded from his arm. He'd just have to deal with not being able to use one arm. There was no other choice.

Right then, more women appeared. They were climbing over the lip of the roof, he realized. There were three of them.

Batman stood his ground, prepared to knock out a few more foes…if he could. The first one was disarmed and punched down by him easily enough, though the act of doing so without the use of an arm had put him considerably off-balance. He wheeled around, ready to face the attacks of the other two that came from behind.

A battle-axe descended down at him…from his left side. His bad side. He could not parry it. He could not leap aside.

There was a dull thumping noise. The amazon crumbled. There, behind her, Bruce saw the third amazon holding a simple blackjack.

His first thought was: why in the world is this woman helping me? His second thought was that this person was among the four honor guards he had battled in crime alley. She had brown hair, green eyes, and a nasty scar on her cheek. It was definitely the third one he had taken out, the one he had fought in hand-to-hand combat.

"Go!" she said, pointing to the tower where Diana was located.

"Why?" was all that Batman said, sprinting over to the side of the building. The woman followed him.

"Because," she answered. "It's the right thing."

Batman raised an eyebrow, pulling out his line gun at the same time. Help was certainly welcome, but to hear it offered from this source…

"There's no time to explain. I can redirect them away from you, though. But you have to hide."

He scrutinized her with a skeptical eye. It could be a trick, but then again, if she wanted him dead, she would have simply let her sister hack him to pieces. Moreover, he recognized the impossibility of the situation. Amazons were virtually swarming all around, and even more would be arriving when Damian disengaged from his pack.

Batman nodded, putting away the line gun. "Take them to the west," he said.

"Hit me," the woman ordered.

Bruce nodded, understanding. It had to look like she'd fought him and lost. He slammed a right hook into her, blackening an eye. He followed that up with a few cuts to her arms and cheek. Lastly, he jabbed some specific pressure points. She wouldn't have to work hard to sell the beaten angle, now.

She twitched a little, limbs going limp. To her credit, she hadn't even flinched through the whole thing. Without further ado, she stumbled over to the edge of the roof and rolled off of it. Right before she did so, Batman whispered something he ordinarily never said. It was: "Thank you."

From his perch, he watched and listened to the scene playing out below.

"Commander Alkyone!" an amazon gasped. "Are you alright?"

The woman coughed. "I'm…fine. That contemptible Bat monster got the better of me," she moaned. She also writhed a little, holding her head. Bruce could tell it was more than just an act. He felt guilty.

"Where is he now?" another of the assembled warriors snarled.

Alkyone grinned. "He's wounded, fleeing like a coward. To the western hills! Fan out, left right, and center. Search every single last hiding place. Kill him!" she barked. It was very convincing.

"Yes, commander." The warrior women rallied and ran off in the wrong direction, a few staying behind to help Alkyone.

Batman waited a few minutes, making sure that they were really gone. Soon enough, the warriors Damian had lured away from tower returned to their posts. They would still be a challenge, but at least they weren't actively pursuing him for the moment.

Not wanting to waste any more precious time, Bruce stalked his way over to the base of the tower without being seen. Now that the streets and buildings weren't flooded with angry amazons, getting around was easy.

It was a simple matter to grapple himself up to the top. He ascended, coming to a perfectly flat, stone ceiling. Although it looked like nothing was there, his computer told him that the signal was coming from directly below. It must have been some kind of windowless, soundproofed cell.

Based on the position of the tracker, Batman could guess where Diana was located inside the room. He took out his explosive gel and drew a bat symbol on a small section of the roof. Stepping away from it, he tapped the detonator.

Stone crumbled at exploded inward, shaking the building and creating a sizable hole. Batman leaped down into the dark room below, hoping this wasn't all an elaborate trap.

When his feet hit the ground, he saw a bedroom spread before him. It was dim, candles and incense burning all over the place. The furnishings were elaborate and looked comfortable. Clearly, it was some kind of luxurious meditation chamber.

However, all of this detail was mere white noise that paled before the sight before him. Diana stood on the other end of the room, seeming unharmed for the most part. She wore a white chiffon of some kind pinned by a brass brooch in the shape of an olive branch. Her hair was perfectly clean, long, and voluptuous. She wore an expression that was equal parts surprise, excitement, and love.

"Bruce!" she exclaimed, sprinting towards him, overcome by joy. She crushed him in a strong embrace. "You came for me."

He hugged her close, so relieved to have Diana back in his arms again that the catharsis was indescribable. "I'll never give up on you," he told her, running the fingers of his right hand through her hair as he cupped her cheek gently.

She pulled away, cognizant of the fact that they probably didn't have much time to escape. Then she saw the arrow shaft in his arm, his cuts, his bruises, his broken nose…

"What happened? Are you alright?" she asked, voice dripping with concern.

"Later. We need to go, now. Can you fly us out of here?"

As soon as the words left his lips, she looked away, crestfallen. "Bruce, I'm n-…I'm not Wonder Woman anymore." She seemed on the verge of tears, like she'd lost something very near and dear to her. No, not "like" he realized; she did lose something. Diana had no superpowers.

"What!" he exasperated. "How…"

"Later," Diana said, summoning a burst of determination. "The guards heard the explosion. They will mobilize the whole army against you."

"They already did," he deadpanned. "The plan doesn't account for this, but things change." For the second time that night, he wracked his brain, powering every neuron he had to figure out what to do.

Diana was already moving, rapidly piling furniture against the wooden doorframe. "I still have the Amazonian strength common to all of us," she explained. "But I won't be stopping missiles any time soon."

Banging could be heard from the other side of the barricade, followed by chopping sounds.

"Let's go," he said, grabbing Diana's wrist and dragging her along. He held her closely to him, grappling the pair up and out of the hole.

"What now?" she asked. "There's nowhere to go."

Bruce smirked, grabbing the end of the cable and attaching it firmly to the lip of the hole. "We can rappel down. Are you still the Princess?"

"I am."

"Good. They won't shoot. Grab on to me," he said.

"Happily," she purred despite the situation, holding on to him intimately.

Batman clicked a button. The grappling cable began to lengthen, lowering the knight and the princess down the side of the tower.

As he predicted, archers drew their bows but didn't let loose any arrows. "He's got Princess Diana!" one of them shouted. "Don't shoot!" they heard another yell. The warriors formed ranks and awaited the couple at the bottom of the tower, ready to smash to pieces the intruder who dared to touch their princess.

When Batman's heavy boots and Diana's sandals met the ground, they instantly jumped into action. The assembled amazons were absolutely stunned, though, when Diana leaped into the fray…on the male's side!

Within moments, the battle was over. The amazons lay on the ground, dazed, unconscious, or simply too scared to face the duo again.

"This way," Bruce directed Diana, sprinting off to the south. A Diana kept pace with him the entire time.

"Damian, listen to me," Batman said, conjuring the holographic display. "Change of plans. Diana and I are heading to the south beach. We'll all be making a swim for it."

"I'm fine, by the way."

"Good." Bruce closed the screen. They continued to run, Bruce praying that the soldiers Alkyone lured away wouldn't come back.

His hopes were dashed when he glanced back and saw a mass of torches approaching and heard the war cries of amazons.

"Are there bats on the island?" Bruce asked.

"You mean, other than the one who rescued me?" Diana sarcastically replied. She furrowed her brow, pondering the question. "On the…North side, I think," she answered.

Why did everything always have to go wrong? "It'll do," Batman stated.

"What are you…" Diana cut her own question off with a wicked grin upon seeing the sonic batarang that he held up. It was his very last gadget, and arguably, his best.

The sandy shore came within view. So too, did a row of a dozen archers, weapons aimed directly at the fleeing couple. Artemis, the red-haired amazon, lead them.

Diana immediately ground to a halt and leapt in front of Bruce, shielding him with her body.

"Have you sunk so low, Diana, that you would sacrifice yourself to protect a mortal man? Especially this…swine!" the vengeful woman accused.

The princess shook her head. "No, Artemis. I have climbed so high for the very same reason."

The red-haired amazon frowned. "Cute, but empty platitudes will not save you. The army is only a few steps behind. You're trapped, beaten."

"You are the one who is trapped," Batman evenly stated, activating the sonic batarang concealed under his cape. He bored straight into Artemis' soul with one of the best bat-glares he had ever, or would ever, muster.

Despite her bravado, chills cascaded down the redhead's spine. Swallowing, she forced down the fear that his dark visage instilled within her.

"Shut up, male, the ladies are talking. The only reason I haven't ordered my archers to kill you is because the queen personally entrusted me to bring you in alive, if possible." She grinned evilly, imaging the countless torments she could inflict upon Bruce before he died of old age.

Recognizing that she was right, he kept his mouth shut. Batman knew he'd get the last word when all was said and done.

Artemis smirked. "Good boy. Now, as I was saying, Diana…"

"You know just as well as I do that he's innocent," she protested.

The fiery amazon feigned ignorance. "I have no idea what you're talking about." She shrugged. "I'm just following orders. All must obey the queen; it is part of our code. That's something you seem to have forgotten, lately. But then again, you've never been very good at following the rules."

"At least I'm not a liar!" Diana shouted, jabbing a finger at her ex-lover.

"That's a matter of opinion, Diana, one that her majesty will decide for herself. Speaking of which," Artemis said, gesturing behind the couple.

Several dozen amazons stood a mere twenty yards away, fanned out in a semicircle. They were heavily armed, dangerous, and angry. Queen Hippolyta herself lead them proudly, outfitted in her full combat gear.

There was an extremely tense silence.

"You severely underestimated my prowess if you believed your anesthetic gas would keep me down for long," the queen proclaimed. To the surprise of everyone present, she chuckled, shaking her head. "I don't know how you deceived Alkyone, but it was an admirable attempt indeed. After all, even we amazons understand the better part of valor." Hippolyta paused, gathering her thoughts. "Not to diminish your martial skill, of course. You fight with a level of tenacity and skill that even few of our people possess. I haven't had a fight like that in centuries." Hippolyta shot him a grim smile. She turned to Diana.

"Don't expect me to shed a tear for your injuries, mother," Diana shot.

Hippolyta sighed. She seemed a woman on the fringe of falling apart, but there was one last shred of resolve that she clung to. "To hear you say those words, Diana, is a lesson in how badly I have hurt you. You must despise me," she said, her gaze sinking to the ground below. "And I don't blame you. Not entirely." Her gaze came back up so that she looked Diana in the eye. "But you have to understand, I do this because it's what's best for you. That's all I want. Please, you have to believe that, Diana, believe that I do love you, that my intentions are pure."

 _The bats aren't coming,_ Bruce thought to himself. _Why aren't they here by now? They're out feeding. They have no reason to come. Well then, I'll just have to make the call irresistible._ He upped the strength of the signal, feeling bad for shredding the poor little creature's ears. They were going to be furious.

"Good intentions mean nothing if the means with which you accomplish them are impure," Diana said.

"I can understand why you might feel that way. But I beg you, please, have faith. Have faith in me, Diana."

Diana seemed to struggle internally within herself. Truly, she did believe, somewhere deep inside, that her mother loved her and wanted to do right by her. The one thing she absolutely could not reconcile, however, was the antiquated ideals her mother refused to let go of, disgusting ideals that demanded she be torn away from this noble man she loved more than anything else in the world. Once, she had loved her people, her mother, her home, and her way of life. Lately, the value of those things had seemed to depreciate. Without much difficulty, Diana realized that she would rather be with Bruce than hold on to everything else that once mattered.

"I…I am sorry. I cannot," Diana said, eyes moistening.

Hippolyta nodded. "As I expected. Still, I must do what I feel is right, same as you. No matter what, Diana, I promise that you will not be harmed. If you surrender now, and he swears a binding oath to the goddesses to never return, I will let him go free. I swear this on my life, on the goddesses above, and on everything that I am. That's how much this matters to me, my child."

Diana felt her resolve wavering. It was a fairly good deal, assuming that she trusted her mother to actually follow through with it. Strangely enough, she did feel a sense of trust when it came to this matter. Her mother, while cruel, had always been a woman of her word.

Her eyes watered even further as she looked at Bruce. They both knew she was considering taking the deal. What if the bats didn't come? What if they couldn't escape anyway? The possibilities gnawed at Diana's insides.

"Bruce…I can't watch you die," she whispered.

"It's okay, Princess," Bruce softly told her. He took her hands. "My life was empty before you came into it. When you leave, part of me with go with you. That part will always be yours. Keep it with you, forever. I'll endure."

"No, Bruce…" she mumbled, holding his cheek.

"Shhhh…" he mumbled, brushing away her tears with his thumb. "I'm sorry, Diana. I really am. It's better this way. Just let me go, please. Don't make this harder than it already is."

Diana's heart skipped a beat as she recalled the first time she had heard nearly those exact same words. It was in the Batcave, after their fight, when Bruce had tried to get rid of her. She had stuck with him then, and she would be damned if she didn't stick with him now.

The message was clear; 'do the opposite of what I'm saying'.

"One day, maybe we'll dance again," he said.

She wanted to grin from ear to ear. He was telling her this wasn't the end! If he truly believed it, she would have faith in him.

"I'll swear the oath and leave, your Highness," Bruce said, turning around. He saw that the queen was dumbstruck by the exchange she had just witnessed. "But first, there's something I'd like to say," he continued, approaching Hippolyta slowly. The warriors twitched and almost ran forwards, but she halted them with a raised fist. After all, what did she have to fear? She could see no possible way for Batman to get away with attacking her.

"Let him speak," she ordered. The words he had said to his daughter intrigued her. They were beautiful. Surprisingly, she believed every word of it. The queen found herself wanting to see where this was going.

"Thank you," Bruce said, bowing gentlemanly. He inched closer, Hippolyta meeting him halfway. They stood no more than five feet apart now, glaring at one another.

By the calculations that had been buzzing around in his head, his little friends should be arriving soon. He had to time things perfectly if this plan was going to have any chance of working. To that end, he had to distract her for at least…let's see…forty-seven seconds.

"I know how you feel. About your daughter, I mean. As you know, I have a son, so I understand what it feels like to be protective. I suppose, all things considered, that I can't fault you for this."

Hippolyta beamed. "Thank you, Batman. We are foes, but even dire enemies can treat one another with honor. That is the way of the amazons."

Bruce nodded. "Of course. Now, I don't presume to know much else about your culture, but from what Diana has taught me, it is a custom among your people to take a trophy from a defeated enemy. I would like to surrender one of my very own weapons, not only for Diana to keep as a token of my affection, but also as a symbol of my oath to you, your highness."

Hippolyta mulled the question over for a good long time. Bruce began to fear that she would refuse.

"Very well," Hippolyta said, holding out an open palm. Bruce gingerly withdrew the sonic batarang he had primed earlier and placed it in her hand. He stepped back from her.

"I promise you, Batman, Diana will be allowed to keep this with her. Now, it's time for you to…" the queen was interrupted by a series of loud screeches not too far off. Several warriors covered their ears, but it was of no use. The noises grew closer by the second.

"Bats!" one warrior yelled, pointing up in the air.

Hippolyta's head snapped down so that she could examine the object Batman had just handed her. Was it…blinking? And why was Batman continuing to back suspiciously away from her?

Deciphering the riddle, Hippolyta's face reddened with the fury of Tartarus itself. "BATM…" she began to scream before her voice was utterly drowned out by the screeches of the nocturnal mammals. The last thing she saw before being completely enveloped by biting, scratching, clawing, irate bats was Bruce giving her an unapologetically self-satisfied smirk.

Several things happened at once. Batman hit the deck, Diana copying him. He rolled over, draping his cape over the two of them. Many of the amazons panicked and ran to the queen, trying vainly to beat the angry bats away or shield her from further harm. Others staggered around aimlessly, blinded by the storm of brown fur. They fought but only succeeded in hurting each other.

Meanwhile, Batman and Diana passed unseen, crawling along the ground as fast as they could. Suddenly a foot stomped down on them. Bruce pulled the cape aside to see Artemis standing there with one blade at his neck, and one at Diana's.

"You'll die for what you've done!" she screamed, raising her sword for a deadly slash on Bruce's jugular.

A red, black, yellow, and green blur slammed into Artemis from behind, knocking her to the sand. It was Damian, swinging from a cable that extended from his wrist. He cut the cable with his katana and plopped right down on top of the sword wielding amazon. She tried to buck him off, but the newest Robin smashed her on back of her head with his hilt. Artemis was sent into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.

Batman and Diana hopped to their feet. The bats were starting to dissipate. "Let's go!" Damian shouted.

The trio sprinted into the waves, finding safety and comfort in their sweet embrace. Soon, they were far away from the beach and the chaos that had occurred there.

When they had swam through the magical shield and could no longer see the shadow of the island behind them, Bruce pressed a few buttons on his wrist computer. The Batwing lowered itself, becoming parallel with the waves.

"Damian," he said, "you're taking it back to the cave. Diana and I will receive transport to the watchtower. It only seats two," he said by way of explanation, glancing at the black-haired treasure he'd somehow (against astronomically small odds) managed to escape with.

"Well that was…interesting," Damian commented, treading water.

"Not how I'd describe it," Diana deadpanned. A second later, she pulled Bruce and Damian in for a group hug. "Thank you…so much," she said earnestly. "Both of you." She couldn't help but cover Bruce's neck, head, face, and ears with kisses. "That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen!" she whispered urgently into his ear.

A high-pitched cough shook the couple out of the reverie. "So are you my mother, or something, now?" Damian asked.

Bruce and Diana suddenly glanced at each other, having absolutely no idea how to respond.

"Well...uhhh," Bruce began.

"Right. Another time," Robin said, climbing into the cockpit.

As the Batwing ascended and sped away into the distance, Bruce activated his comlink. "Batman to Watchtower. Come in Watchtower." There was no response.

Diana suddenly remembered something, something important. Something that had been forgotten amidst all the excitement. "Um, Bruce?" she asked.

"Not now," he said. "Batman to Watchtower. Come in, Watchtower. Terrific, are you there?" There was still no response at all. "Damn it!" Why aren't they answering?"

"Bruce," Diana said urgently as she squeezed his arm so hard it couldn't be ignored. "You're bleeding."

"I know," he responded. "It's fine."

"No, it's not," Diana said solemnly, pointing ahead of them. There, the couple spied a massive, white shark fin. There were other fins approaching too, and from all sides.

"Someone! Anyone! Answer me!" Batman desperately shouted.

There was a _zoom!_ noise, and then Flash's voice came over the receiver. "Hey there, umm…Bats. Yeah, what's up?"

Bruce and Diana cringed internally, knowing they were doomed. She even pressed one final kiss into her dark knight's cheek, as if to say goodbye. The numerous shark fins came closer, the ravenous beasts circling for the kill.

"Transport. Two. NOW."

"You know, Bats," Flash said, casually taking a bite of something. "I really don't like-"

"Listen to me, Wally West." Bruce's tone was so menacing, Diana felt herself shiver with fear. Despite the extreme situation, she actually felt more concerned for the Flash's safety than she did for their own. "You will transport us to the Watchtower, right this second. If you don't, you will spend the rest of your miserable, short life regretting it."

They could practically hear Wally sweating bullets on the other end. "O-Okay. Right. So…ummm…right. I mean, I got, no wait...uh…oh, okay…" he mumbled through the food in his mouth.

A loud humming noise was transmitted over the line. Presumably, Flash was speeding up to give himself more relative time to remember how to transport someone from earth. Given an eternity, they still didn't believe Flash would ever figure this out.

"I love you, Diana," Bruce moaned into her earlobe. He ripped off the cowl.

"I love you too, Bruce," Diana gasped into his neck. They pulled away so they could look each other in the eyes one last time. A strange smile came over the amazon princess' face. She was at peace.

The swarm of sharks was so close; they could have seen the tooth-filled maws that stretched out to consume them, but neither of the pair was paying any attention to that. The only thing that mattered for the last few seconds of life was one another.

There was an audible whirring sound. Motes of energy sparkled in the air and water around them. They felt their molecules being separated, space itself stretching a vast distance as the laws of physics were temporarily torn asunder.

The jaws of the hungry sharks chomped on the exact same spot Diana and Bruce had been only nanoseconds earlier. It was too late for them to feast.

* * *

A second set of whirring and motes appeared in the Watchtower monitor room. When the light faded away, Wally saw Bruce Wayne and Diana standing there.

"Hey guys, I did it!" the speedster beamed. "You can always count on your old pal, Fla _…"_

 _Wait a minute,_ Wally thought, _why are they soaking wet, and…oh my god, Diana's robes are completely see-through. That's it. I'm dead. I'm so dead. Batman is going to murder me._

"Not looking!" Flash exclaimed, covering his eyes in a last-ditch effort to save his life.

Diana ran forward, paying no heed to whatever Flash was talking about. She wrapped him in a tight embrace. "Thank you, Wally. Thank you so much."

The speedster returned the hug halfheartedly, refusing to let his arms touch Diana at all. He held them up in the air, blurting "not touching!", which unfortunately meant he couldn't cover his eyes. When he saw Bruce's smoldering glare, he wished very badly that he had kept them covered. Wally was surprised that actual daggers weren't coming out of the billionaires' eyes to stab him dead.

Diana broke the hug. "What's wrong?" she asked, noticing the strange way he refused to look at her. Come to mention it, he had been talking oddly, too. A split second later, she caught on. "Oh," she said, embarrassed, covering herself with her hands.

Bruce glanced around. Luckily there were no other people in the room at that moment. It was 3: 52 a.m., after all. He put his arm around Diana and began to lead her away. "If you tell anyone what you saw tonight, I'll know." He turned and casually put the cowl back on.

As the couple left, Flash shivered. Ok, so maybe he wasn't going to die. But still, he had to zip it, lock it, and throw away the key. Why, oh why couldn't GL have taken care of it? Why had John needed to go to the bathroom and ask him to watch the monitor? And more importantly, why had he been so foolish as to leave the station unattended so he could grab some food 'really quick'?

"Alright, Flash. I'm back. Go eat all you want now," Lantern said, approaching the speedster. "Hold on a moment," he said, examining the floor. He frowned. "Do you want to explain to me why this teleporter pad is sopping wet?"

"Oh, that. Well, I actually…wait…" Wally wanted nothing more than to tell GL what had really occurred, but the image of Bruce's glare was etched into his brain. He stayed silent.

"And look!" the ex-marine said, pointing at the control console. "It's covered in…hot dog toppings?" Wally just grinned sheepishly. "That's nasty, man."

"Right. Sure is. Let me go clean up this mess that I, the Flash, made," Wally said. Well, at least it was partially true.

There were a few red blurs, then the area was immaculate once more.

"You may make messes fast, but at least you clean up fast, too."

"Yup. Anyway, G-man, I've got to go, see ya," Flash muttered before speeding away.

"Did he just call me G-man?" John wondered. He shook his head, baffled by Flash's antics. Sure, the speedster could be a bit…unusual, but even he wasn't typically this weird.

"Is it just me, or is this one heck of a crazy day?" he mused to no one in particular.

 **Author's Note: And there you have it. PHEW. That was exhausting to write. Especially considering I just did another update. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I've got more coming up. It's...well, let's just say you're in for a surprise.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Here's a short update for all you readers. I was going to write a longer aftermath chapter, but decided to split things up for better organization. In the meantime, this will hopefully tide you over.**

 **Neither DC, these characters, or JL is owned by me. :(**

As soon as they crossed the threshold into Diana's bedroom, she pushed Bruce up against the wall and pressed her lips insistently into his. He returned the passion eagerly, wrapping his good arm around her waist.

Bruce was reminded about his pierced arm when he moved to grasp the back of her head in his other hand. Pain shot up the appendage, foiling the attempt.

"Diana, stop," he said, pushing her away.

She did as he requested, looking hurt. After all that had happened, the exiled amazon simply wanted to share her affection and gratefulness with him, to know that she had a measure of control in this time of crisis in which everything seemed to be erupting in chaos.

Diana scrutinized him, suddenly realizing the source of his upset. "Your arm," she said, examining the wound with a more critical eye.

"I've lost a good deal of blood already," the dark knight explained. "I can barely stand as it is, and I'll lose more when it comes out. It nicked a major artery."

"We need to get you to the medical bay," she said, stripping off her clothes in a frenzy and putting dryer, less transparent ones on. He'd only brought her here to get dressed, she realized.

"I can take…" Bruce began, vision blurring and balance being thrown out of whack. He groaned. "…myself. Someone should be manning the station."

Diana was already dressed in whatever she'd managed to grab, which turned out to be gym shorts and a sports bra. "I've treated countless battlefield injuries, some worse than that. I'm going," she simply stated. There was no room for debate, it was a fact. Bruce knew that there was no way he could stop her, anyway.

"Alright." He held out his arm so that Diana could support him. She took it, allowing him to lean on her as he limped into the medical bay.

Green Arrow was the one on duty at the time. From what Bruce had heard, Ollie was quite the doctor himself. It made sense. As the only other non-meta member of the League, he would have had to learn to patch himself up on occasion.

Hearing approaching footsteps, the costumed archer turned around. He jumped in surprise upon seeing the strange sight before him; Batman with an arrow shaft through his upper arm, dripping droplets of blood on the floor, and slumping over on Wonder Woman, who was even more scantily attired than usual. That certainly wasn't something one saw every day.

"What in the hell happened?" Ollie exclaimed, rushing over to help support Batman.

"It's a long story. I'll tell you later," he said with bated breath. The archer and the amazon got him onto a gurney.

"He's bleeding internally. The arrow punctured an artery," Diana explained. "I suspect that if we remove the armor, we'll see his lower arm turning blue," she said, already unfastening the seams that held the ablative plating in place. Her theory was confirmed when the trio saw that the interior of the suit, as well as the exterior of the arm itself, was drenched in crimson fluid.

Green Arrow rushed to assemble the necessary equipment to perform surgery. "You're welcome to give me a hand if you know what you're doing." Suddenly remembering how old Diana actually was, he corrected himself. "Actually, you could probably teach me a thing or two."

The ex-Wonder Woman ignored the comment, already getting started. Arrow followed in her wake, taking a supportive role as she did most of the work. In fact, he even found himself taking mental notes during the process. The only thing he'd really had to help her with was explaining the purpose of the various high-tech tools that weren't available on Themiscyra. Once she'd figured that out, though, Diana was using them more efficiently than Ollie could have.

It wasn't long until the bleeding was halted. The wound had been cauterized, sutured, stitched, cleaned, and bandaged up by now. However, Bruce was beginning to pass out from a combination of blood loss, pain, and mental exhaustion from resisting the influence of the Lasso of Truth. His mind felt…fuzzy, strained in a way that even he hadn't experienced in a long time. More than anything, he just wanted to sleep.

"He's weak," Diana said. "Let's get him some blood, now." She looked at Green Arrow as if waiting for him to say something. When he didn't, she clarified it for him. "We didn't do that on Themiscrya. I don't know how." Instead they'd used magic herbs and powders to seal the wound almost immediately, negating the need for blood replacement.

"Oh, right." Ollie was over by a computer in no time. "Let's see, got his type right here." He quickly retrieved a few bags of blood from cold storage and taught Diana how to properly give it to Bruce.

A few hours had passed, but Batman seemed to be in a stable condition by now. Diana's pounding heart could finally slow itself. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

"Don't worry; he'll be alright," Oliver said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I know how hard that must've been for you." It was an open secret by now that the so-called 'WonderBat' relationship was in full force.

"Thank you," she said, acknowledging both his aid and his sentiments. Diana didn't take her eyes off the black-clad superhero, though.

"Look, if you don't mind me asking, what's the story behind all this?"

She sighed. Quite honestly, Diana had no idea what to say. Bruce certainly wouldn't want the gritty details circulating around the Watchtower. Frankly, neither did she when she really thought about it. More important was the issue of her not being Wonder Woman anymore. Should she tell him?

Oliver was good person. Ever since he had joined the League, he had been proving himself as a trustworthy, loyal, and committed member. She felt more comfortable telling him important secrets than many of the other non-founding members. Besides, everyone would find out soon enough when she'd be forced to resign.

"It's a long story," she began. They took seats next to the unconscious Bruce, Diana giving him the main bullet points. When she finished, the green archer was in a state of shock.

"That's terrible!" he exclaimed. "How could she do all of this to you? People like that seriously piss me off." The words hung awkwardly in the air.

"Join the club," she responded. The blonde man felt a little bad about stoking the flames of her discontent. He decided to change the subject.

"So, what are you going to do about not having any powers anymore?"

Diana sighed. "I suppose I'll have to resign."

"Don't talk like that, Diana. You've still got skills and abilities that can help us." When the raven-haired woman didn't answer, he went on. "Give it some thought."

She nodded, not really intending to. "Please, don't tell anyone else. I want them to hear it from me. In any case, I'm sure Superman will find out soon enough."

"Your secret is mine." Arrow yawned. He'd been up since yesterday morning, and it was 6:53 a.m. Nearly twenty-four hours.

"You should get some rest," she suggested. "I'm not lacking for sleep; I can stay with him."

Ollie shrugged. "Sounds reasonable to me." He figured if there was one person who would be totally committed to taking care of the dark knight, it was that woman. "I'll see you around some time."

As the man left, Diana drew privacy curtains around her and Bruce. The Watchtower was about to get a lot more active, and she knew he wouldn't want to be seen this way.

In fact, saying that seeing him this way put her in a state of unease would be a grand understatement. Bruce had nearly killed himself trying to save her. What he had went through, what he had sacrificed, what more he had been _prepared_ to sacrifice, it was truly astonishing. And it was all for her.

Diana didn't know if she deserved it. Ever since they'd been together, he'd been in extreme danger because of her. She was a liability to him, a weakness. The wound on display before her served as a reminder of that. It was also a reminder of his mortal status, which made these considerations even harder to bear.

What if her mother, or other amazons following her orders, came after him? What if she was re-captured by her mother? Would he come back for her again? Somehow, she doubted the success of another rescue attempt.

Even worse, now that Diana was missing her powers, she'd be much more vulnerable in combat. Unable to deflect a bullet with her bracers any longer, she could easily imagine Bruce diving in front of her stop it. And if he was too late, and she died, he'd be crushed. That man's psyche was already so fractured, Diana doubted he'd be able to deal with a loss like that. It had been one thing when she was the most powerful woman on the planet, but now it was another matter entirely.

Perhaps it would be best if she willingly surrendered and returned to Themiscyra, especially since there was no way she could be a part of the League any longer. Her mother was no doubt furious, but Diana was confident she'd be welcomed back into the fold.

Breaking it off with Bruce would be useless. The feelings were already there. Maybe, just maybe, that stubborn man was right all along when he told her that it was best if they were separate. She, in her short-sighted stubbornness, had convinced him otherwise. The onus was all on her.

Diana got up and began to pace. What was she thinking? Was she really going to invalidate the extreme risk he had put himself through for her, make it so that he bled for nothing?

"What's wrong?" she heard a groggy voice ask. Diana wheeled around, seeing Bruce stirring on the gurney. She came over and put her hand on top of his.

"I was just worried about you. You should rest." Her attempts to redirect his attention were transparent. The fact that she was a bad liar was hardly a surprise, considering who she was. It was obvious that something more than the wound itself was bothering her.

"You're wondering what this all means," Bruce observed.

"Yes. I was just thinking…I'm not the same person you fell in love with. I'm not Wonder Woman. I don't have any powers beyond my slightly enhanced strength. I can't be a superhero anymore." Her head fell in shame.

A tense silence hung between them. Suddenly, Diana realized the implication of what she'd just said. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to imply," she stammered.

Bruce pulled his mask off. "I know," he began, "and it's alright. You've lost something that was extremely important to you, something you care deeply about." He tugged on her arm, asking her to come closer. She complied readily. He cupped her cheek with his good hand. "You aren't defined by your superpowers, Diana. You aren't defined by the persona of Wonder Woman. You can still protect people, still be a superhero." Bruce paused, fixing her hair gently. "You're one of the most highly trained, skilled combatants on the planet. Your will is strong, and you still have your empathy, your personality. Princess, you ARE the same person I fell in love with, because I didn't fall in love with your superpowers, didn't fall in love with Wonder Woman. No, I fell in love with you, Diana."

Her heart and eyes felt like they were melting. His impassioned speech had put all her fears right in their place. Of course he was right. Not for the first time (and certainly not the last, she was sure) Diana wondered why in Hera's name this man always had to be so right all the time. It was almost like Bruce knew her better than she knew herself.

Diana grasped his hand that still caressed her cheek. She squeezed it tightly, having absolutely no idea what to say. What she could possibly even say to something like that?

"Bruce…" she whispered. "Did you…do you really mean that?" she asked, knowing that he did. He nodded slightly. "I'm so sorry," she tried to begin.

"Don't be," he said, cracking a faint smile. The couple giggled at the line that was quickly becoming a cliché between them.

Diana impulsively climbed into the bed with him, taking care not to disrupt any of the machines he was plugged into. They squirmed into a perfect position, arms wrapped possessively around one another. She snuggled deeply into his embrace, purring with pleasure.

"What did I ever do deserve someone like you?" Diana asked him.

Bruce chuckled. "I ask myself a similar question every day."

The couple stayed that way for a while. They just stared into one another's eyes and faces, trying to memorize every detail and savor the closeness as much as possible. It was especially delicious, considering the extremely narrow escape they'd made only hours before. To know that they were safe and that nothing would separate them was…magical.

After some time had passed in quiet serenity, an amazingly brilliant thought popped into the amazon's head. "Teach me," she suddenly asked him. "Train me to do what you do."

Bruce didn't like the idea, but denying that she needed help adjusting to fighting heavily armed thugs and supervillains without her old powers would be pure foolishness. Moreover, he could never have brought himself to crush her spirit like that.

Bruce had trained three Robins, as well as Batgirl, because he had realized that they all needed to fight crime; it was simply part of who they were. Even knowing the ultimate results, such as Jason's death and Barbara's crippling at the hands of the Joker, he'd still do it all over again. Diana was no different.

"Nothing would make me happier," Bruce mumbled with his eyes closed. "Are you going to be my Batwoman?" he said, grinning.

Diana stroked his chest, which had been bared when they'd removed his armor. At length, she said "No. I don't want to grow in your shadow."

"Fair enough," he said. Bruce had expected as much. Batwoman, though…it gave him an idea. Being extremely drained, he couldn't extrapolate the thought fully, so it just sort of dangled there, half-finished. "I promise you, we'll figure something out."

"It's not exactly like you're on a budget, is it?" she pointed out.

Bruce didn't hear her; he'd faded into unconsciousness already. Diana smiled, propping herself up on one elbow to watch him sleep.

 **Author's Note: Next update will be about Bruce helping Diana get set up in her new life. Working on it now!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay in updating. I'm back to school again and Legion came out at the same time. Needless to say, I've been rather busy. Having to wait until I could write this has been torture.**

 **There is more graphic sex in this chapter, so reader discretion is advised. However, I promise you there's some real plot (and fluff) too. Enjoy!**

"Are you ready for your first day of work?" Bruce asked, sipping his coffee casually.

Diana had been adamant about wanting a normal a day job as part of her quest to better understand man's world. With his assistance, that dream was finally coming to fruition.

She swallowed a mouthful of the delicious omelet Alfred had made. "Truthfully, I'm a little nervous," Diana responded, tucking a loose lock of raven hair behind her ear.

 _God, she's so cute,_ Bruce thought. "You'll do fine," he assured her, putting his hand over hers. "You're perfect for the position."

The position he was referring to was the director of human resources at the Gotham branch of Wayne Tech Enterprises. With her natural empathy and people skills, Bruce was supremely confident that she would indeed handle the role well, and with the falsified background he'd concocted for her, it had been a trivial matter for her to land her the job.

It was the perfect arrangement. Having Diana working for his company would keep them close enough without infringing on her independence. After all, she would be the head of her own department and not necessarily beholden to him.

"Thanks," Diana said, smiling. She took another bite and chewed thoughtfully.

Bruce returned the grin with one of his own. Having her here at the mansion the past few weeks had been a blast. During that time, the couple had worked tirelessly on her secret identity and impersonation skills. Diana was enthusiastic about having a normal life and learning more of what it was like to be among mortals, especially now that she was relieved of her duties as Wonder Woman and the Themiscyran ambassador. That enthusiasm had made her a fast learner.

 _It will be good to work with her,_ Bruce thought. He was certain that she felt the same way.

"How do I look?" Diana asked.

Bruce scanned her carefully. She had used makeup to change her facial skin tone slightly, just the way he'd taught her. Diana had fiercely insisted that she not cut, nor dye her hair, so the natural compromise was a change of style. Her midnight tresses were swept up into a professional-looking bun. A pair of glasses with non-functional lenses adorned her face. She was dressed in a knee-length skirt, modest blouse, an expensive jacket, and (of course) a pair of black high heels.

Bruce's mouth was suddenly dry. Although he much preferred seeing her in her old uniform, the woman still stunned him.

"Gorgeous," he whispered throatily, a vacant look on his face.

"You are incorrigible," she chuckled, shaking her head. "Thank you, but really: do I look like Wonder Woman?"

Her beauty still shone through the admittedly effective disguise. He had, of course, known it would be impossible to conceal completely. However, there were lots of tall, attractive black-haired women in the world, and without any obvious visual ties to Wonder Woman, it seemed as if Diana was going to pass rather well as a mortal.

Bruce shrugged. "To me…yes. To your average person…I highly doubt it."

She smirked, clearly proud of herself. "Told you I could do it."

"I never doubted you," Bruce protested.

"I know." She finished her breakfast and pushed the plate away, suddenly turning to him. "Thank you, Bruce. For everything." She rubbed his arm gently.

"For you, Princess…anything," he responded, giving her a peck on the cheek.

Across the table, Damian cleared his throat. "You'd better get used to it," Bruce admonished. The boy frowned but didn't say anything.

"Now that this is all taken care of," Diana began, gesturing at the disguise she wore, "does that mean we can focus more heavily on training? Not that I'm ungrateful…"

Bruce had been able to put aside some time from his daytime duties as Mr. Wayne and his nightly duties as Batman to start teaching her everything she would need to know to fight as a non-powered hero. As an extremely skilled warrior, she'd taken to it rather well, merely having to adjust skills she already possessed as opposed to learning entirely new ones.

It wasn't that Bruce lacked confidence in her newfound abilities. Rather, it was more that he worried about her, wanted to make absolutely certain that Diana was as prepared as possible to fight crime again. To that end, Bruce had held her back, insisting that she needed more practice. Diana had resisted his efforts with her usual stubbornness and independent mindset, leading to their relationship becoming strained and argumentative lately.

She was beginning to fear that Bruce would never trust her to handle herself. Although Diana relished the idea of spending time with him and had deeply enjoyed living with him so far, she also wanted a modicum of freedom. The fact that Diana was still depressed about all that had happened recently with her mother certainly wasn't helping her poor mood, either.

The last thing that Bruce wanted to do was crush her spirit. Lately, that was exactly what he had been doing to her. Nothing would make him happier than lifting her mood and seeing her as a proud hero once again.

"I promise you, Diana," he said, looking straight into her eyes, "I will stop at nothing to make sure that you WILL be a superhero again. It's just going to take some time, that's all."

Diana found that she believed him with all her heart. She had trusted this man countless times before, and it had always paid off in the end. Reluctantly setting aside her doubts, she nodded her head.

"We'll redouble our efforts tonight," he added. "But first, there's something I want to show you after work."

"Oh?" she asked, raising an eyebrow slyly.

"Well, it's actually two things. But yes," he answered.

"Lucky me. I can't wait," she said, secretly hoping that one of them was a prototype costume.

The two lovers, as well as Damian, finished the meal in silence, merely enjoying the other's company.

"Oh, shoot," Diana said, glancing at her watch. "I'd better get going." She rushed out of the kitchen, grabbing the keys to her brand new red Ferrari that Bruce had bought her.

"Are you sure you'll all right to drive?" he asked.

The amazon frowned at him, looking insulted. "I can fly a jet plane," she deadpanned.

Her indignation stung him. Bruce knew he was being ridiculous, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. He had been alone for so long, had gone without anyone to care about for such a long time that he had forgotten what it was like to be concerned. True, Bruce had had Damian for a while now, but that was…different. Deep down, the only person he really trusted to do anything was himself; even if it was only half of himself.

While the billionaire was lost in thought, Diana had already gone out the door. He was now alone with his son.

Damian pushed his empty plate away and stood up. "And I thought you were being over-protective of me," the boy said in his usual monotone. He walked out, stopping in the doorway. "At least you have time for her," he remarked over his shoulder. "I may as well go back and train with Nightwing."

Bruce sighed and took a long gulp of his coffee.

* * *

Hippolyta paced doggedly back and forth across the clean, white marble of her private quarters. She wore a hard scowl. It had been a week since Batman (she quivered with fury at the thought of that name) had absconded from the island with her Diana; and yet, she still hadn't reasoned out the puzzle that gnawed at the corners of her psyche.

Knowing that she could do absolutely nothing to protect Diana from the horrors of man's world, could do nothing to protect her from whatever Batman might be doing to her at that very moment, it engendered a feeling of powerlessness within her. The intense emotion clamped down around her heart like icy claws and turned her stomach. Deep inside, though, it gave way to pure, white hot rage that threatened to vaporize her composure.

The worst part was, it had been she who had taken away Diana's powers. Because of her actions, Diana was now stranded in an alien world without magical abilities to ensure her safety. The irony of this fact was not lost on Hippolyta; the utter guilt and self-hatred was nearly consuming her. To say that she'd suffered restless nights and low spirits would be a grand understatement.

"What could drive her to behave this way?" she exasperatedly said. "How could that man drive Diana, my noble Diana, to turn against her own sisters like this, to turn against me, her own mother!" The queen threw up her hands in abject frustration, on the verge of yelling.

Off to the side of the room, Artemis stood with her hands behind her back, head still bandaged. The redhead eyed the amazon queen carefully. This past week had been stressful for them both. Hippolyta's question burned within her mind as well.

"Truly mistress, I have absolutely no idea," Artemis said. It felt like she was beating a dead horse.

The queen was silent again, as if she was considering something. She stopped walking and turned to the other woman. "Artemis, I summoned you here today because you are a close friend of my daughter's. In fact, I know that you two are more than that, even."

"I am those things no longer. Not after what she's done."

Hippolyta nodded. "Fair enough…but my point is that you knew Diana in a different way than I did. Perhaps you have some special insight that I lack. Perhaps she confided things to you that she would never share with me; things that could explain her radical change of character." Artemis seemed hesitant, unsure if betraying Diana's trust was the right thing to do despite what had happened. "I know it may seem unethical, but please…I just want to understand," the queen went on.

The fiery amazon sighed. "As you are well aware, when Diana was growing up, she was an extremely inquisitive girl, full of questions about the philosophies behind our way of life. She was curious about man's world above all, and wanted to know why we keep ourselves sequestered away from it. What you may not realize, however, is that she secretly held on to these thoughts well into her adulthood." Artemis paused, finding a lump in her throat at the conjured memories of the next part. She forced herself to talk past it, causing her voice to sound strained. "When we were alone, we would frequently speak about this topic. Diana loved to speculate about what man's world was like, and even expressed interest in seeing it for herself on multiple occasions. I, of course, found this highly disturbing, so I tried to talk her out of it. It became a point of contention between us, a wedge that drove us apart and destroyed the relationship." The headstrong amazon looked away, trying not to let tears grace her eyes. "This is all my fault. I knew something like this was going to happen someday, but I was far too bitter about losing her to care. I'm...sorry."

Hippolyta strode over to the red-haired warrior and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You can't think that way. It will eat your soul from the inside. Besides, if the blame belongs to anyone, it is mine. Diana is my child. I should've realized…should have put a stop to it. Moreover, it is I who have left her powerless in a foreign land. The burden falls on my shoulders."

A moment of silence passed between the two women. Eventually Artemis sniffed, wiped away the tears, and stood proudly once again. "Thank you," she said.

Hippolyta nodded, then walked over to the balcony that protruded from her bedroom. Artemis followed her. "Perhaps he didn't corrupt her as much as I thought," the queen mused, staring out at the beautiful Themiscyran landscape. "The seeds were always there, weren't they? They were just waiting for someone like him to come along and simply cultivate them." She sighed again, shaking her head. "If I'm to have any hope of getting my daughter out of this, Artemis, I need to understand her relationship with this man; what she feels and why. I need to understand Batman, who he is, and how he thinks. According to what you've told me today, I also need to come to better understand Diana's personality as well."

"How do you propose to do that, my queen?" Artemis inquired.

"I've put a considerable amount of thought into this matter," the blonde amazon answered. "I'm going to man's world to learn all that I can."

Artemis' eyes shot wide open. "What!?" she gasped. "Hippolyta, I mean, my queen…how can you consider leaving the island in a time of such political strife? The rebels are few, but they grow steadily in numbers and conviction. You're needed here to re-assert our laws and way of life."

Hippolyta nodded. "Indeed. Yet, how can I hope to maintain law and order when I can't even control my own daughter? Furthermore, how can I be expected to win an ideological battle without understanding the mindset of the other side, especially when that side mirrors the way Diana evidentially feels about men and man's world? This issue with her is inextricably linked to the troubles the threaten to tear Themiscyra asunder. That is why I must go."

The redhead was still skeptical, but she worked hard not to let it show. "I hope you realize that I am a loyalist, my queen. As such, I, and hopefully the others like me, will respect your decision."

"Of that, my confidant, I have no doubt."

"Who will administrate in your place? How long will you be gone?"

"Commander Alkyone can handle that job. She has always proven capable and wise, despite her relatively young age. I trust her with my life," Hippolyta said. "As for your other question…my answer is 'as long as it takes.' However, it shouldn't be much longer than a few weeks or so."

Artemis craned her neck. "If you say so. How do you expect to find this man in such a short timespan? He could be anywhere...could be any*one*," she said. "That's the problem with that cowardly mask of his."

"I know my way around man's world," the queen answered. "As you might recall, I was Wonder Woman for a time. Besides, Diana accidentally blurted his name: 'Bruce'. All I need to do is find some connection between Bruce and Batman, and there has to be one."

"May the strength of Hera and the wisdom of Artemis be with you on your journey, then, my queen," Artemis said, bowing. "I shall inform the court of your decision and ready the invisible jet."

"Thank you," Hippolyta said without looking at the other woman as she left. Instead she merely stared outward at Themiscrya again, hoping that she was about to make the right decision.

With a jolt, the queen realized that nothing was more important to her than Diana's well-being. She steeled her resolve and turned around to prepare for the journey.

* * *

Diana yawned loudly, quickly covering her mouth with back of her hand. It had been an exhausting first day. She'd had to get her office set up (with a Greek theme, of course), introduce herself to everyone, and try to get some work done; all while also learning the intricacies of what Wayne Tech Enterprises was up to these days.

As she'd discovered, Bruce had seized control of Lexcorp. The company had crashed and burned after Luthor became a wanted criminal during the Brainiac incident. Taking it over had been easy.

The process of subsuming the old company into the new was an exhaustive process fraught with legal battles. Apparently, much of Lexcorp's immoral activities had been exposed when the government had blown the lid off of the company. Every step of the way, new issues were coming to light; human rights violations, lawsuits from former employees that no longer lived in fear, bribery, extortion, racketeering, trafficking, and more. Wayne Tech had to deal with it all if they wanted to swoop in on the scraps. Truly, it was a legal nightmare.

That's not to say that Diana was put off by this fact, however. If anything, it made her more committed to the job. In this position, she could do magnificent work and really make a difference in the lives of the people that had been hurt by Lexcorp. In short, she loved it and didn't mind working tirelessly.

It was not lost on her that Bruce had bought out Lexcorp for reasons other than to simply expand the reach of his empire. He'd wanted to make absolutely certain that Lexcorp, or any new company that arose from the ashes, could never again be used to do evil. Moreover, she realized that there was no one Bruce trusted with handling that task more than herself. Knowing that he placed that much confidence in her bolstered Diana's spirits. Suddenly, she felt bad for being as sour with him as she had been the past week.

A sudden knock on her door snapped Diana back to the present. "Come in," she said.

The door opened, revealing Keith, the head of the legal department. He shared this floor with Diana, which worked out perfectly since they were going to end up collaborating closely on the Lexcorp issues anyway.

Keith was a good-looking guy, though not as good looking as Bruce in Diana's opinion. She could tell that he was a very skilled lawyer, but the man was somewhat obnoxious and vapid personally. He'd been hitting not-so-subtly on Diana all day. In fact, lots of men had been noticing her. Keith was the prime contender for her affection in this office, though (and even he didn't have a chance, she thought). Although the attention was somewhat titillating, it was already starting to get old.

"Hey, Diana. What are you up to? Everyone else had already left," he said.

The amazon princess in disguise sighed. "I know, I just sent my secretaries home. I'm just finishing something up really quick. There's so much work to be done."

Keith laughed. It sounded obnoxious and forced. "Don't I know it. There's no way you're going to finish tonight, though. Perhaps you would rather go out instead?"

"Thanks, but I have plans, actually," Diana said, recalling that Bruce had two surprises waiting for her. Her heart beat faster at the thought. "Sorry."

Keith shrugged. "Ah, of course a gorgeous lady like yourself has plans. Well, have a wonderful night!" he said, waving as he walked out the door.

"You too," Diana said, putting on a smile. When he was gone, she began organizing several papers, and then pulled out her cell phone. There was an unread text message from "B". It read: _Hey, how was work?_ Diana typed a response.

 _Great, if a little hectic. You didn't tell me about Lexcorp, but I'm glad to be working on it. I really appreciate your confidence_

 _You're welcome. If you're not too tired, still want to see your surprises?_

 _You know that I do_

 _Good. Meet me here: 227 Rose Street, Gateway City._

Diana's eyebrows furrowed in surprise. _Interesting location for a surprise,_ she typed, knowing better than to expect a further response from the ever-mysterious Bruce. The exiled princess grabbed her purse and proceeded to the elevator. She was extremely eager to see what this place was all about and what it was that Bruce had in store for her. A cheerful smile graced her facial features and her step had a special spring to it.

* * *

A loud _ding_ emanated from the elevator. Bruce and Diana stepped out of the lift, the former using his hands to steady and guide the latter. With the blindfold obstructing her vision, she relied on his assistance to navigate.

Diana didn't appreciate the fact that she had to depend on him in this way. She'd only reluctantly agreed to participate in this silly game after much persuading on Bruce's part. As a result, her beautiful face wore a frown.

"Are we almost there?" Diana pouted. "I grow tired of fumbling around like a bat," she said with a little too much vitriol. The amazon warrior instantly looked contrite, realizing what she'd said. "Sorry. There was no pun intended."

Bruce chuckled. "No need to apologize, it's alright. And yes, we're almost there. Just a few more steps, I promise." He led Diana by the hand over to an ornate wooden door. Somehow she managed to stride regally despite having absolutely no sight at the moment and wearing tall heels. Bruce shook his head in astonishment, impressed by her grace as always. He produced a key and unlocked the door.

Bruce carefully walked Diana through the door and shut it behind them. He smiled, eager to see her reaction to the surprise that lie in wait. "Alright, we're here," he said, untying the black strip of cloth around her head.

Diana blinked, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. She was obviously in some kind of bedroom. The bed was queen-sized and appeared to be draped in fine silks. The area was rather spacious, comfortable, and luxurious. She could see most of the interior from her position as well, which informed her that this was a penthouse apartment of some kind.

What struck her the most profoundly, however, was the presence of Greek-themed items that decorated the area. There were replicas of weapons as well as a few actual ancient Grecian armaments in display cases. Mediterranean paintings and tapestries hung from the walls. Greek-style vases or other ceramics were there as well.

Diana was taken aback by the beauty of the scene before her. Not all of it was one-hundred percent authentic, but it was still nice, reminding her of home. She silently drank it all in, too stunned to talk or even move.

Bruce couldn't gauge her reaction from behind her back. He came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Do you like it?" he whispered into her ear. "I wasn't exactly sure what was right. I can always have it changed, if you want." Diana didn't respond, so he went on. "I also had a small library of novels, TV shows, and movies put in as well, so that you can browse the media of man's world if you so desire."

The raven-haired beauty wheeled around, pure awe on her face. "Bruce…" she said, taking one of his hands while her other caressed his thick chest and shoulders. "It will make an amazing getaway, I'm sure."

He shook his head, chuckling softly again. "I suppose it could be our private space, but that would be your decision." Diana frowned in confusion, demanding a further explanation with her expression. Bruce put his calloused hand on her velvet-soft cheek, cupping it gently. "Princess, this place doesn't belong to me," he said, suddenly very serious. "It belongs to you." He reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a glass tube that had some kind of parchment rolled up inside of it. "You deserve a space you can call your own, a domain of which you are the mistress."

Diana's heart instantly began pounding away as if it was Hephaestus' godly hammer. She stared straight into Bruce's brilliantly blue irises. He did the same, seeing the warmth, love, and surprise that swam in the depths of her perfect orbs.

Soft, warm lips were suddenly smashed against his. An endless string of feminine moans hummed against his mouth. A delicate but strong hand grasped the back of his head and pushed him forcefully into the kiss. Bruce stumbled backwards, finding the cool wall of the apartment against his back. At the same time, a desperate hand snaked its way up his shirt and wove itself all over his muscles, flicking his nipples. The deadened nerves of his skin crackled with pleasure at Diana's generous touch.

It had all happened so fast that Bruce didn't even realize what was happening at first. He'd expected some form of emotion from her, but he hadn't predicted this level of passion. All things considered, the dark knight was perfectly happy to be surprised for once.

He feverishly returned Diana's passion, deepening the kiss even further. His tongue pried at the entrance of her mouth, but didn't need to force it open. Diana was eager to permit him inside, moaning even louder.

As their tongues dueled and explored the inside of their mouths, Bruce seized one of her luscious breasts. He massaged it sensually while another slid up and down the narrowest part of her waist. Diana moaned even louder still.

The kiss continued for indeterminate amount of time before Bruce had to pull away for air. Diana had other ideas. She pelted his face mercilessly with a storm of light kisses; getting his cheeks, nose, forehead, and most of all, his hard jawline that she seemed to adore so much. It was if she was making love to his face with only her lips. It both intrigued and excited him beyond all measure.

He finally weathered her loving assault, his amazon lover eventually stopping so that she could talk. "Bruce…" she whispered into his ear, nuzzling her cheek against his. "Thank you. I just…I…thank you so much."

"Any time, Princess. Like I said, you deserve it," he responded, cracking a huge grin.

Diana pulled back to look directly at him. "I'm so sorry," she said, hugging herself and looking away in shame.

"For what?" Bruce asked, touching the side of her arms.

"The way I've been acting this week," she explained, meeting his gaze again. "I was harsh with you because I felt like you considered me helpless and weak after I lost my powers. I thought you didn't trust me to handle myself anymore. I thought you were treating me like a child, but I see now that it was love that informed your actions, not pity."

"Diana, I could never pity or look down on you," he said, untangling her arms so that he could hold her instead. "Even sans powers, you're one of the most dangerous, skilled, tough warriors on the planet. You're the most intelligent, wise, caring, empathetic, and driven person that I know. And as a woman, you're so gorgeous and alluring that I can't think straight. It's maddening how perfect you are sometimes."

Diana crashed into him again. It was awkward to put her head against his chest while standing, especially since she was slightly taller. Instead she settled for resting her head on top of his shoulder.

They stayed that way for a long time. Bruce broke the silence by saying, "I would never take away your independence. In fact, you've been ready to fight crime again. The only reason I've been holding you back is because I was scared. I've been alone for so long, Diana…"

She didn't let him finish. "Well, you're not alone anymore, Bruce. You never have to suffer that burden again. Of that, I promise you."

"Are you sure about that? My darkness is going to keep on rearing its ugly head like this. I thought you could cure it, or at least help me manage it, but I'm afraid it's here to stay. It will define and taint our relationship."

Diana looked up at him thoughtfully. It didn't take long to formulate a response. "Bruce, your darkness doesn't scare me. You don't have to change; I love you just the way you are. No matter what, you can always be my shadow."

Her words melted his icy heart, made his insides feel warm in a way they hadn't felt since his parent's deaths. Diana filled a hole in him that had been lost that night in the alley, her unbending affection smoothing the rough edges of his cynicism. She made him feel loved, truly loved, a desperate need that had turned his world dull and grey in the cold absence of it being met.

Bruce took her lips and gently kissed her. There were no words to describe how he felt about her in that moment. The longer their relationship went on, the more trails they faced, the stronger it seemed to become. Bruce had long since dismissed the possibility that such a pure connection could exist in this cruel world. Tonight he had been proven irrefutably wrong. If someone as perfect as her could feel so strongly about someone as broken as him, he reasoned, then there was hope after all.

The billionaire was perfectly content to continue the sensual kiss and simply hold her. Once again, Diana had different plans.

"Why don't we christen these new sheets?" she purred, pressing her body against his as much as possible. She began to gently grind her hips against his, showing Bruce exactly what she wanted.

It was at that moment that he discovered Diana wasn't wearing any panties. He could feel her soft labia through the fabric of the loose skirt as it pressed against his growing member. The intense heat of her smoldering core leaked out from between her thighs and tantalized him. Bruce could tell she was already wet, arousal juices soaking through both of their clothes.

His whole body shook as overwhelming desire began to overcome him. Every muscle of his body tensed as he fought the urge to savagely take her. "Oh god," he growled, unable to prevent his hips from acting on instinct and pushing back against hers. Just knowing that the only thing that was separating him from her sex was a thin, flimsy, idiotic, infuriating, short skirt…it literally frayed the ends of his sanity. Bruce was in very real danger of losing himself to pure instinct.

Diana bit her lip. "What's wrong?" she asked sweetly. She ground even harder on his manhood, which was as stiff and straight as a steel ingot at this point. The amazon could not suppress an involuntary mewl that escaped her lips. She teased herself as much as she teased Bruce.

"You're…making me…lose control," Bruce rasped, gripping her tighter.

Diana leaned in and mashed their lips for a few seconds, pulling at his lower lip with her teeth when she broke the kiss. "Maybe that's exactly what I want," she whispered. Her heart fluttered nervously. At the same time, though, excitement flooded her mind and body. Diana looked at him, eager to see what he was going to do.

She did not have to wait long. The world became a blur as she was suddenly spun around and forced up against the wall, Bruce's strong hands steadying her and cradling the back of her head. Diana gasped, or tried to, before he fused their lips together and swallowed her breath. There was an audible click and a zipping noise, followed by the sound of pants being torn down. Her legs instantly shot up and wrapped tightly around his back, granting Bruce full access without hesitation. He violently hiked the skirt up, then latched his hands onto the cheeks of her perfect ass, supporting her weight effortlessly. Bruce kneaded the flesh, causing bolts of desire to soar along her nerves.

Suddenly, Bruce put his forehead against Diana's and shut his eyes in extreme concentration. His head was brushed up against her inviting entrance. Bruce knew he could slide in so easily and claim her. Yet, an urgent worry tugged at his sensibilities. With the greatest surge of willpower he'd ever summoned in his entire life, he stopped himself from slamming into Diana.

"Can't…do this," he rumbled, unable to annunciate clearly through his grit teeth. He took a deep breath. "We can't keep having unprotected sex like this, Diana."

"It's okay…Aphrodite's blessing…control fertility…still have it," she managed to get out between heavy pants. "By the goddess, just take me, Bruce!" she nearly shouted.

There was a wet slapping sound as he thrust all the way into her with one rough stroke. Both lovers shut their eyes and moaned, seeing stars dance behind their eyelids as their bodies trembled with pleasure. It had been too long since the last time. Demanding schedules, important matters, and sour feelings had gotten in the way; but that was all over. Now they were free to act out their love as much as they wanted.

Diana scowled despite the pleasant sensations she was experiencing. The insertion had still hurt more than a little, despite the fact that she'd had him inside of her several times now.

Bruce quickly realized this fact and fervently kissed the sensitive spot on her neck. "I'm so sorry," he said into her ear. Shivers ran down Diana's spine at the sound of his baritone.

"Don't be," she murmured, clasping her hands behind his neck. She gave him an elegant smile that brightened his dark soul.

Bruce took a deep breath and remained perfectly still, giving her a chance to adjust to his presence inside of her. Besides, he was on the verge of exploding already. Diana was just so unbelievably sexy and felt so perfect. And to make matters worse, she was clamping down on him pretty hard right now. Still, he forced himself to calm down, not wanting it to be over already. Bruce's secret goal was to stop for the night only when she had come so many times that she passed out.

They fondled and stroked one another, content to take their time. Gradually, Diana relaxed. The pain was mostly faded away and she was feeling confident, so she began to wiggle her hips and even thrust back and forth on him. Bruce mirrored her actions. Soon, the couple was moaning, gasping, and panting while they built a comfortable rhythm.

It did not last long before being abandoned entirely. The searing lust that burned within them demanded more friction, so they began to bash their hips faster and faster, picking up speed until Bruce was slamming into Diana like a blur. She egged him on urgently, tightening the grip of her thighs, helping to pull him deeper inside and increase the force of the thrusts.

The raven-haired beauty began to tremble and shake, sinking into a world of pleasure. The pain had been replaced by the most delicious sensation she could possibly imagine. It surged outward from her core, pulsing delightfully as it reached the farthest corners of her being. Saying that Bruce was pressing her orgasm button would be an inadequate metaphor. It was more like he smashed it mercilessly.

Bruce was equally forgone in the sensations he was experiencing. However, he was not lost enough for Diana's condition to escape his notice. He stretched the thumb of one hand to circle her clitoris gently.

The princess jerked her head back, shutting her eyes tight. She opened her mouth wide in a silent scream. Diana's limbs became jelly as the waves of joy inside her reached their highest strength. "Goddess," she breathed, dangling over the edge.

Bruce was not that far behind her. Panic welled within him as he realized that he might topple over the side before she did. He redoubled his resolve, determined to let her finish fist. His thumb circled her clit faster.

Diana didn't just fall off the edge; she plummeted. Her whole body became paralyzed, legs locking so hard around Bruce that he thought she might shatter his pelvis. She lost control of her voice, whimpering through the intense orgasm.

The sound of it tugged at Bruce's heartstrings, and the way she looked that moment seemed to him like the most beautiful sight one could imagine. He felt as if he lived only to see his Diana in these amazing throes of passion.

Her strong, silky smooth, ridged walls seized his member tightly, contracting with the rhythm of Diana's pleasure. He too lost control as her body ordered him to come as well, and he found himself obeying instantly. Bruce forgot his own identity as pure heaven pooled in his groin and flooded his bloodstream. There was one thing, though, that no amount of disorientation could make him forget. "Diana," he moaned, shooting rope after rope of his hot essence inside her.

They came down slowly, holding one another for support as they weathered the storm of sensation. It seemed as if the climaxes would never end. Finally, it was over.

Bruce had somehow managed to hold Diana up the entire time. His muscles now burned from exertion, so he put the amazon back on her feet as carefully as he could. She stumbled, her legs buckling. Bruce was there to catch her, of course, but he too was weak from the copulation. He just barely managed to yank her into the apartment's bed with him before collapsing in exhaustion.

Diana's lids fluttered, still experiencing aftershocks that made her sigh and quiver. She rolled onto her side and curled against Bruce, resting her head on his broad chest. The couple lay still, savoring the post-coital bliss as they cuddled.

Several long minutes passed before they could talk. "Mmmmm…your cum feels so good and warm inside me," she said, looking straight up at him.

"You can have it whenever you want, Princess," he responded.

"You're damn right I can. You belong to me now."

Bruce raised an eyebrow questioningly. "If anything, it's the other way around," he winked slyly.

Diana grinned playfully, loving these games of dominance they constantly played. "I see we have a difference of opinion…maybe we should do it all again so you can understand." Bruce groaned deeply in response, but Diana mistook his primal response for frustration. "You're not going out on patrol, are you?" she asked, her hopes shattering.

Bruce smiled and shook his head. "You bet your sweet, amazing ass I'm not," he said, slapping the part of her body in question. Diana's pulse quickened, finding that she enjoyed that…a lot. She ran her fingernails down his chest as dozens of dirty possibilities that did not befit an amazon princess crossed her mind. "I anticipated this might happen, so I've got Nightwing and Damian on it," he explained.

"Smart man," she said. "Wait, what about my other surprise?"

"It's not here, and suddenly I've lost all desire to leave," he answered suavely. "You can have it tomorrow," he said kissing her nose.

"Fine with me," Diana responded, settling deeper into the cuddle.

Bruce wanted nothing more than to let the conversation end there and return to lovemaking, but something chewed at the back of his mind. "We need to talk about something before we continue," he said.

Diana sat up. "Whatever it is, I'm sure we can work it out, Bruce."

He nodded. "It's Damian. He needs me, too. He really needs a father right now, and I haven't been" Bruce explained. "I've been spending time almost exclusively with you, and he resents me for it. It's eating away at him."

"So what are you saying?" Diana asked, genuinely curious.

"I just…need to balance what little free time I have fairly between you two. This apartment, your job, it's all part of that, in a way. You can have the space you need to be independent, while also freeing me up to be the dad Damian deserves." Bruce tousled her hair a little. "Please, Diana, can you accept that?"

She answered by giving him a deep, tender kiss. "Of course I can. You'll make a great father, Bruce," she followed up. Diana was sympathetic to his situation and understood completely. In fact, his concern for both her and Damian touched her heart and made him more attractive if anything.

A vague curiosity tugged at her mind, though. The concept of parenthood was a somewhat alien one to her, having grown up on Themyscira where almost everyone was reincarnated as a fully grown adult. With a start, she figured out what it was; the idea of motherhood excited her, seeming both natural and foreign at the same time.

"Do you think he requires a mother as well?" she asked. "Sorry, that was presumptuous of me," she instantly corrected, looking away.

"No, it's alright," Bruce said, chuckling as he cupped her cheek. "To be honest, I don't know. Ra's was the closest thing to his dad, and from what I can tell, loved him dearly. His mother, though; she planned to kill him. There might be some harsh feelings there, or it could mean he needs a good woman in his life more than anything. He's a complicated kid, even broodier than me. Only time will truly tell."

Diana nodded, understanding. "I got the impression he liked having me around. He acted bitter whenever I beat him in a sparring match, but I could tell there was no true ill will."

"I think you're right. I may talk to him about it. I have a feeling you'll be seeing each other on occasion, so perhaps something may happen organically."

"Absolutely," Diana said. "Now, enough of this talk. Are you ready for round two?"

Bruce answered by wresting her onto her stomach, pinning the princess to the bed. "I don't know…are you?" he teased.

"You are asking for it, little man," she fired back dangerously, plotting a tactic to break his hold.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's note: Sorry for the short chapter. It's a little teaser for you...got a longer, more actiony, more noir one coming up after this. It will take some time to write, so I'm giving you this in the meantime. Enjoy!**

The monitor flashed to life as the computer it was plugged in to booted up. Within moments, it displayed a simple login screen. The woman tentatively typed the password, fingers unsure, unused to dealing with this kind of technology.

She was an attractive blonde woman who was both far older and much more physically fit than one might assume at first glance. A sigh escaped her lips as she glanced around at the surroundings while the machine logged her in. It was a lonely, empty internet café somewhere in the United States. The time was 12:56 a.m.

How ugly all of this technology was. A scene such as this, filled with the signs industrialization and technology, was a far cry from the land the woman had just come from. Already, she missed the beaches, quiet groves, and crystal clear lakes of Themiscyra.

"Finally," Queen Hippolyta murmured. Past the login screen now, she fiddled with all sorts of commands, trying to recall how in Tartarus these things worked. Eventually, the blonde amazon was surfing the internet, voraciously seeking out as much data as she could find concerning her quarry.

The first tactic she tried was cross referencing any mention of the name "Bruce" with "Batman". Instantly, she came across hundreds of pages, blog posts, news articles, and forum messages about a billionaire playboy who was called "Bruce Wayne." As far as Hippolyta could tell, he was the only Bruce that the world cared about.

Based on the pictures and video that she was looking at, this Bruce Wayne character seemed to be about the right size, height, and weight as Batman. As a multi-billionaire business mogul, he would also have enough money to fund the advanced tech that Batman used. Bruce evidently had sufficient motive to fight crime as well; his parents were murdered in front of him at the age of 8.

Hippolyta's stomach turned at the descriptions of the brutal murder. She could well imagine the trauma he must have gone through. Still, it only increased her determination to keep a watchful eye on the man. Surely such an event explained his moral decay, as well as confirming her beliefs about the fallen nature of man's world. It was more evidence that Diana did not belong with Bruce, did not belong in man's world.

Snapping back to attention, she realized that what data she had collected was hardly enough evidence on its own. Her search might have ended there if not for the fact that it became readily apparent that many other people speculated Bruce Wayne moonlighted as Batman. Some even made good cases; citing the same evidence and making the same conclusions that she had. Hippolyta hadn't felt confident in her outside perspective, but now that she knew the people of man's world suspected it as well, she felt as if she was drawing close to an answer.

The notion was still dubious, however. Dozens of other celebrities were speculated to be Batman, and most of these arguments were equally-well reasoned. In addition, there was the fact that Bruce Wayne was generally regarded as a fool; a fop, an airhead, a joke. There was no way any who knew him personally could possibly think that this man could be the ruthless, shadowy vigilante.

"Or are you just a clever actor, Batman?" Hippolyta whispered to herself, skin crawling at the memory of bats swarming all over her. She scowled in anger, but clamped down on it. Now was not the time to be vengeful. Rationality was key.

Clearly, this line of investigation was already at dead end. The queen could scour the internet for decades and end up doing nothing other than going in circles. She needed a new approach.

"But what?" she asked the empty air.

Hippolyta meandered through the swamp of the internet for a while. She became sidetracked over and over again, curiosity driving her as she investigated a wide range of topics for any possible connection. It was partially desperate hope that she might uncover a clue in an unexpected place.

Just when the blonde amazon was about to give up, there it was; a news headline. It read: 'DEBONAIRE PLAYBOY AND FIERCE AMAZON HEROINE SHARE A DANCE'. She clicked on the article's link almost immediately, her attention captured in an iron-handed grip.

Apparently, Bruce Wayne and Wonder Woman had both attended a charity event in Paris, France. A multitude of photos showed the two of them dancing rather intimately. It was clear that they were very much into each other.

Hippolyta scrutinized the images. She was thousands of years old and had mastered the art of perfectly reading people during that time. Analyzing Bruce would prove to be pointless because Batman didn't give away any of his inner thoughts or emotions. She did get a strong sense that he cared for the woman he danced with beyond simple lust, but it was impossible to determine if the feeling was authentic, or part of his act. The Queen thought it was a foregone conclusion that the latter was the case.

Being more open with her emotions, Diana was another story entirely. The way she moved, the way she interacted with him, her body language, it all identically matched the way she had seen Diana act around Bruce that night on the beach of Themiscyra. Hippolyta knew her daughter, can could tell when she was in love, and it was painfully obvious that she was deep in love with Bruce Wayne.

Diana couldn't have been signaling more loudly that Bruce Wayne was Batman if she had been screaming it out into the Parisian night.

Although Hippolyta had found the evidence she'd came for, she decided to read the text on the page. As she did, a feeling of disgust and frustration came over her. Just as she'd seen with the rest of man's world's idols, Bruce and Diana's lives, their every move or action, was scrutinized in excess. A matter that should've been kept private was now on display for everyone to see, speculate on, and spread rumors about. It only made her hate Bruce and his world more for making her little sun and stars a spectacle of amusement.

Hippolyta shut the computer off and disappeared into the night, one destination in mind: Gotham.

* * *

"Ready for your second surprise, Princess?" Bruce asked.

"You've only kept me waiting for a whole day and a night," Diana said, smiling to let him know that the comment was a playful one.

The couple stood in the Batcave, where Bruce had asked to meet her after work. He was dressed in the Batsuit, prepared to go out on patrol that night.

"Right this way," Bruce said, gesturing for her to follow. She did. Soon, the pair stood before a row of glass cases set off to one side of the cave.

Diana saw a row of costumes on display before her. There was an old prototype of the original Batsuit, the costumes of all three Robins, and Batgirl's.

The last item, however, was what stood out the most. It appeared to be a woman's suit made purely out of some kind of silvery metal. It vaguely resembled Bruce's gear with a red bat symbol, red gauntlet spikes, yellow utility belt, a cape, and bat-like ears.

"I've seen all this before. What's the surprise?"

Bruce smirked. "See that last one, on the right?" he pointed at the silver, red, and yellow costume. "It's yours now, if you want it."

Diana scoffed. "Bruce, I told you I wanted to step out of your shadow."

He nodded. "I'm aware of that, and you can easily do so." This response elicited a confused frown from her. "Allow me to give you a demonstration," he said, chuckling.

His hand whipped out, tossing some kind of small metallic ball at her. It was a simple matter for her to reflexively catch it. However, the device exploded as soon as it made contact with her hand. The metal warped, flowing like liquid as four cables wrapped around her, trapping her arms against her side.

Diana struggled against the bonds. They would not break. The substance was as hard as normal steel. She may as well be in a straightjacket.

"What manner of sorcery is this?" she asked with an acrider tone than she intended.

"Not magic. Science". Bruce pushed a button on his utility belt, the cables softening as they slowly melted into a metal pellet again. Diana wiggled free and picked up the device, inspecting it as if to discern how such a strange thing could operate.

She smiled. "What is it?"

"A new substance invented by a brilliant scientist who is now working for my company. The easiest way to explain it would be to say that it's a programmable metal. It can take any form without becoming brittle or sacrificing strength," Bruce said, grabbing a pair of needle-like objects and another lump of the material. As he talked, he used the needle to twist the lump into a chess piece, a basketball, a batarang, and back to a formless blob again.

"Fascinating," Diana said in awe. "I suppose that's what the suit is made out of, then? Which means…" she trailed off, a smile forming on her radiant face. She turned back to look the suit, the possibilities swirling in her mind.

Bruce came up beside her and wrapped an arm affectionately around her. "You can be anyone, or anything, you want. Well, almost anything."

Diana turned to him. She was so touched by his gift, his thoughtfulness of her, that her heart tingled in joy. Every time she was down, every time she suffered or needed help, Bruce was always there to make things better. She simultaneously decided that she would never let him go as well as to always be there for him when he needed it.

"Thank you, Bruce," she whispered, brushing her lips against his and caressing his body with her hands.

"Any time," he half said, half moaned. The authenticity of her gratefulness was apparent in her voice, her sparkling eyes, and the way she pressed her body to him. There was nothing he enjoyed more in the entire world than making her feel this way, letting her know how he felt about her.

Despite how many women he had been with in his life, this kind of emotional openness was a fresh thing to him. Now that Bruce had finally found someone he could trust with his feelings and had been frequently tasting that pleasure, he reveled in the sensation, unable to get enough. It was just so liberating in a way that he never could have guessed.

As much as he liked the attention, this was not the time for such things. "I've been modifying the suit with upgrades that match many of the features of my suit," Bruce said, changing the subject. "It's ready for you."

Diana nodded, taking his meaning. She reached a hand hesitantly for the glass pane. This was another huge step. She stopped, paralyzed by doubt.

Would she be able to do what Bruce did? Could she really survive as a crime fighter without the metahuman abilities she had relied extensively on up to this point?

"What am I without Wonder Woman?" she asked cautiously, looking down.

There was a momentary silence, save for the distant chittering and fluttering of bats.

Bruce twitched, wanting nothing more than to comfort Diana and reassure her of her capability. He reminded himself that people needed confidence in themselves to succeed and not empty platitudes. She was a strong person, and Bruce didn't want to diminish that by holding her hand though this trial.

Meanwhile, Diana fought her internal battle.

Being Wonder Woman had defined her for a time. Despite it's brevity, that aspect of her very long life was the one she looked upon mostly fondly. She had never lacked confidence, but on the other hand, she had never truly been tested until she had left the island. Though she passed all those tests, she had done it with the odds heavily stacked in her favor. Handling the same responsibilities as a mere mortal were another matter entirely.

No, not a mere mortal. She glanced at Bruce. Here was someone she had once considered a mere mortal, and he handled those responsibilities with amazing perseverance. His ability to do so was one of the main reasons she was so enamored with him. To reject her new role would be to denigrate his worth, as well as her opinion of him.

There was nothing 'mere' about being mortal, she decided. Though Diana was only functionally mortal without her many blessings, she resolved to embody that ideal the way Batman did. If he could do it, so could she.

Diana furrowed her brows. She was a 5,000-year-old warrior with a complete mastery over the arts of war and tactics. She'd received centuries upon centuries of training, honing herself to perfection. Although she was exiled and disillusioned with her people, she was still a proud amazon.

The old Batwoman costume was in her hands within moments. Diana resolutely strode over to Batman's workshop table and took the programming needles into her hand. Bruce followed her, ready to assist her with whatever she planned to do.

Hours passed as the couple worked in solitude. At first Diana needed his help with the high tech device. Once she had the hang of it, though, Bruce recognized that he was just getting in the way. He stepped back, giving her space.

It quickly became clear what her end goal was. Bruce smiled. Somehow, it didn't surprise him in the slightest. The design fit her perfectly.

There was a sudden whoosh, followed by a slight clicking sound. Damian swung through the air, a grappling cable extending from his wrist, the other end firmly embedded in a stalagmite. He flipped, landing gracefully at his dad's side.

"Ready to go on patrol, father?" he asked, looking up at him.

Bruce just shook his head and ruffled his son's short, black hair. "No," he said, "That won't be necessary."

Damian looked up at him in confusion, noticing the new suit that was taking form next to Diana. He had been looking forward to spending some time with Bruce, even it was out on the skyline of Gotham.

"Oh? And why is that?" Damian asked. He narrowed his eyes and frowned, suspicious of the answer. "I suppose it has something to do with whatever she's making."

Bruce was well aware of his son's fears. The boy was terrified that Diana was invading their family, usurping him as the prime owner of his father's attention. It had been a simmering concern for some time now, and one that Bruce was going to put to rest.

"We aren't going out on patrol tonight, Damian," he explained.

The fourth Robin cocked his head in puzzlement.

"She is."


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's note: Sorry for the lull in updates. The creative juices stopped flowing, and I've been busy. I'm back now though, and intend to update the next chapter a bit quicker.**

 **I Justice League not own do.**

"Would you hurry the fuck up?!" the assault-rifle-toting, heavily-body-armored man said, revealing a thick Brazilian accent. He glanced over his shoulder to look at his nearly identical comrade, who was busy working on hacking the vault door open.

"Jesus, give him a break, man. This hacking shit is delicate work. Wouldn't want him to trip the alarms, would you?" a third mercenary scolded, cracking his neck casually. His voice, too, rang with south American tones. "Idiot."

The first mercenary twitched in irritation, but mentally reminded himself that infighting wouldn't help anything. "Sorry. It's just…the bat, you know? He could show up any time. Got me all…on edge, I guess."

"Would you relax?" the hacker said without looking away from his console, fingers blazing over the keyboard. "We're professionals here, and some ninja wannabe has got your panties in a twist."

"He's right," the laid-back criminal went on, chuckling softly. "How bad could Batman be?"

The nervous one shook his head. "You don't know; you clearly haven't met him yet," he whispered, chills running down his spine as he recalled the vivid details of the first encounter. And the second. And the third…

"Shut up, you two," the hacker barked again, this time risking a quick look behind him. He quivered, perhaps in fear, perhaps due to cold. "We've got a job."

The first mercenary scanned the office building, seeing nothing but rows of cubicles. "Look, all I'm saying is that we should be more…"

There was an ominous thump as booted, metal feet struck the ground about twenty meters away from the trio. The two guards swiveled in the direction of the sound.

"What the hell!?" the jumpy one blurted, shocked by the sight before him. He aimed the assault rifle at the intruder but didn't fire, mind too overwhelmed with the arduous task of identifying her. Wait, HER?

Yes, clearly female, by the curves and breasts. Even more odd, she was clad in some kind of silver metal. The outfit vaguely resembled that of the Greek warriors the thug had read about in his brief time in school…Spartans, he thought they were called. There was a breastplate, an elegant but bulky helmet plumed with feathers, an armored skirt of some kind, and thick greaves. Everywhere else, save her eyes, mouth, and nose were covered by a skin-tight layer of the material. Overall, the garb looked to be all one silver piece…but how was that possible?

"That's not...who the fuck are you?" the confidant gunman asked. All his fellow guard could do was shiver in place.

The imposing figure loomed for a heartbeat, regarding the men with a piercing gaze. Then she spoke, an elegant but deadly voice issuing from her throat.

"I am Myrmidon," the woman boldly declared.

There was a moment of tense silence. Then, "You've got to be kidding me. A chick? And in an outfit like that? Go back to the circus, broad." The guy nervously chuckled, his false sense of bravado extremely obvious. "Here you were, worrying about Batman showing up," he said, turning to the other gunman, "and we've got this bitch to deal with instead. It must be our lucky day. She's got a NICE body. We can definitely have some fun!" When the crude jibe was met with ominous silence and a contemplative look, he cleared his throat, eyes darting back and forth uneasily.

"What fools you are!" the warrior barked in frustration, beginning a charge towards her foes. Quicksilver-esque material melted out of her suit, a phalanx shield forming in her hand almost instantly. She raised it front of her.

At the same time, the men opened fire with their guns. A hail of semi-automatic fire pinged against the shield.

Myrmidon grunted, the force of the blasts threatening to push her back and halt the charge. Moreover, there was a good chance that a lucky shot might eventually penetrate. Another tactic was required. She twisted to the side, threw herself to the ground, and rolled off into another row of cubicles.

"Forget this semi-auto shit!" the nervous mercenary shouted. He jerked a lever on the gun, setting it to full-auto. Muzzle flashes bathed the room in obscenely bright light as a never-ending stream of bullets sizzled through the air, decimating the cubicles. The dramatic devastation was ended with an unceremonious "click" that signaled a shortage of ammo.

"Shit shit shit shit…" the terrified killer spat, fumbling over another clip.

"Great going, dumbass. At least she's probably dead… right?"

A miniature version of a discus sliced through the air and buried itself into the speaker's rifle. He tried to fire vainly at Myrmidon, who seemed to appear out of nowhere. It was no use. The gun was cleaved in twain and would never spit lead again.

She was upon him in an instant. Trained in hand-to-hand combat, the mercenary put up his fists with the intent of slugging her down.

The next thing he knew, the world was a haze of stars and bright spots. All he knew was two facts. One, that he lay on his back amid the wrecked office furniture, and two, that there was pain; a lot of it.

Meanwhile, the shaky, reloading thug finished his task. It was too late. The woman slapped the gun to the side just as a spray of lead shot out, missing by a wide margin. She grabbed both his shoulders and slammed her knee violently into his groin. The mercenary fell to the floor, screaming and convulsing in white-hot pain.

At that instant, the vault door finally clicked open. Before Myrmidon could react, the hacker rolled through the entrance to the server room and punched the lockout button.

If it weren't for her lightning-fast reflexes, the man might have successfully separated himself from her. Instead, the silver vigilante willed her armor to create a Greek sword, which was promptly plunged into the control console. Glitching and spraying sparks, the console shut down, halting the lockdown in progress.

Myrmidon strode into the server room. The hacker had just inserted some kind of thin device into one of the computers. Her strong grip captured his throat, hoisting him into the air.

"What do you want with this technology, little man?" she asked. Though the tone was calm, the sentence was less of a question and more of a command for information.

"I dunno, some kind of files. Please, don't hurt me!"

"Wrong answer. Try again. For your sake, I hope you do better this time." Her voice was sharp as steel but as soft as silk.

"Oh god, oh shit…look miss, I mean, uh…ma'am…I don't even know who I'm working for, or what's here, or um, anything like that." He sweat profusely, rattling off the words in a panic. "I don't even know who hired me. Honest!"

Myrmidon scowled. It was an image that would surely haunt his nightmares for years to come. Icy claws tore at his heart, telling him he was about to die in the most horrible way possible.

"I know you're lying, scum. Do you want me to get the caped and cowled one down here? He's not as nice as I am." The pressure on his throat doubled.

"I'm telling…the truth," he choked, gasping for air.

Even without a magic lasso, she could tell that this pathetic fool was telling the truth.

"Goodnight."

"No, please!" the hacker said, thrashing and clawing to escape. It was no use. Myrmidon kept applying just enough pressure to make him faint, but not enough to actually kill him. When he finally stilled, she laid him a bit roughly on the ground.

She then back tracked to the office and made sure the other would-be thieves were also knocked out. Then, putting a finger to her temple, she said, "Myrmidon to Batman. I've put a stop to the break-in, but I don't know what to make of this situation." She glanced around at the whirring, beeping, and flashing machines inside the server vault. "It's a little bit outside my area of expertise."

Had anyone else been around to hear her voice, they might have noticed that the warrior's voice took on a sultrier, softer aspect when she addressed Batman.

"I'm sure you can handle it. If not, I need you out on patrol. I can stop by later."

"Is that how you feel?" Myrmidon asked.

As she awaited his response, the woman kneeled to inspect the bodies. Something caught her eye, and she yanked aside their collars one by one.

"Yes," came the curt reply. "Damian and I have something important to look into."

Myrmidon continued her inspection, examining the thug's arms, legs, shoulders, and backs.

"Well then," she said, feigning indignation. "I suppose you won't be interested to know that these thugs are covered in rather distinctive tattoos."

There was a delay. "What kind?" the other voice rasped.

"Snakes."

"I'm on my way."

* * *

Batman rose from his kneeled inspection of the unconscious thieves. Despite the bulky cape and heavy metal armor, his movement was as silent as a ghost's whisper. Not even a rustle.

"These definitely aren't your average run-of-the-mill robbers," he boomed, wrapping the cape around him like an aura of blackest shadow.

"What makes you say that?" Damien quipped from his nearby position leaning against a wall with his arms folded. "No wait, don't tell me," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "Is it the fact that they managed to break into the extremely well-protected office of a highly powerful corporation without triggering the sophisticated security systems? Or is it the fact that they're covered in snake iconography from head to toe?" His much higher pitched voice filled the silence of the room, a stark counterpoint to Batman's low rumble.

The boy's flippant remark sluiced off Batman as if he hadn't even heard it. "This suggests an organized and well-funded plot. These guys don't come cheap."

"Who are they?" Myrmidon asked, putting a hand on her hip. When Batman didn't answer right away, she looked at Damien. The boy was equally at a loss.

"South-American cartel members. I've tangled with them before. They're vile criminals that use reptilian motifs and practically worship snakes. Their highest-ranking hitmen are meta-humans called Copperheads." When his female accomplice shot him a quizzical look, Batman added, "Yes, Luthor's Copperhead used to be one of them."

"I'll scan the data banks and see what they were after," Damian added, heading into the server vault. A few moments later, he was rapidly typing lines of commands into the machines. The key clicks were a drum roll that went on seemingly forever.

Meanwhile, Myrmidon ducked over to were Batman loomed imposingly. "I want to help in any way I can," she whispered to him, allowing her voice to return to the sibilant tones of Diana. "And don't you dare think of sending me away!" she hissed.

The bat's timbre rose in pitch as well, becoming the charming sound of Bruce Wayne's voice. "Look, something big is definitely happening tonight."

Diana peered at him as if asking how he could possibly have guessed that.

"Call it a hunch," he elaborated quietly. "Look," he began, even quieter, checking with his detective vision to see if the thugs were really still unconscious. They were. "I'm worried about you. Just like I'm worried about Damien. I know you both need to be out here, doing this, fighting crime instead of wallowing in your own feelings of ineptitude, because I've been there, too. That's why I did what I did, for all the Robins. Not that I'm implying you're my sidekick, of course."

Diana grinned, nodding in agreement with all of his points.

"I won't stop you from doing as you please," he went on. "Just don't expect it to be easy for me to accept."

Diana wanted desperately to reach out and touch him, to hug him, kiss him, or even just lay a hand on his to reassure him and display her appreciation. She almost did, but recalled Bruce's rule about showing any affection at all while in costume. Instead, she settled for another light smile. There would be time for all of those things later…and more.

"Thank you," she intoned softly.

The typing ceased, heralding Damien's arrival from the other room. "The hacker managed to insert a thumb drive which automatically ran a program. It transmitted terabytes of data to an unknown source, but I couldn't crack it. This programming is top-notch."

"What kind of data?" Diana asked, settling easily back into the Myrmidon persona.

"Financial records, the real names of many crime lord's pawns, and private recordings of a highly sensitive nature."

"Blackmail," Batman stated, brushing past Myrmidon and into the vault. She followed. "Is any of it related to drug or human trafficking?"

Damien shook his head.

"Then it's outside their usual style," he observed.

"Wait a minute, why did the servers of a tech company have such information?" Diana asked.

"They didn't; the thugs just needed a set of highly advanced computers to perform the hack, and these are the best in the city. Other than mine, of course. In any case, once they got in, an automated program downloaded everything from secure severs," Batman explained, scrolling through the menus on the various screens. "Since most of this is related to Carmine Falcone and Rupert Thorne, I'd say they were the targets."

"But that doesn't tell us what the motive was," Damien pointed out. He stroked his chin pensively. "It could be a third party trying to capitalize on blackmailing the two most powerful gangsters in the city, or it could be one of them trying to take down the other while protecting himself."

Batman nodded. "True. Staying here doesn't get us any closer to the answer. That's why I'm going out. It's time to finish tracing a few of those leads you and I were working on."

"Care to explain what you're talking about?" Myrmidon inquired.

Batman sighed. "The Joker is dead." The words didn't shock her, she'd gotten the story of the clown's downfall from Bruce previously. "He used to keep the other criminals, even big time syndicates, in line with the threat of his chaotic wrath. Ever since he died, a power vacuum has been left in his wake. Gotham's been quiet lately. Too quiet. If I know this city…and I DO know this city…then someone else is eventually going to attempt a power play. Considering that most of my rogues have been taken care of, my two most likely suspects were Thorne and Falcone. That's what me and Robin were investigating tonight."

Myrmidon nodded. It made perfect sense. "I'll come with you," she said, falling into step with him as he went for the door.

"Wait," Robin blurted. "There's something else you should see." He punched a few keys and summoned a window with some kind of paused video inside of it. "This was encrypted along with the rest of the files, but the code was weaker."

The black and silver vigilantes wheeled around to look. Robin pressed play.

Almost immediately a green clad man appeared on the screen. He twirled a wooden cane topped with a question mark. His outfit was covered in the same symbol.

"Greets, o' dark knight of Gotham!" The man exclaimed joyously. "It is I, your greatest rogue of all time, the unequalled master of all puzzles, and your intellectual superior…"

"Nygma," Batman rumbled.

There was a pause on the other side as the Riddler held baited breath. "You stole my introduction from me, didn't you?" He scoffed, gesticulating nonchalantly with his cane. "It is of no consequence, especially since by the end of the night your feeble mind's fortitude will be utterly shattered by my mental might!"

"Is this guy going to ever shut up?" Damian deadpanned.

"What IS important, my befuddled, bemused, and besmirched Batman, is that I have a capriciously copious conundrum for you to struggle vainly against!"

The screen cut to black. A second later, the recording displayed a still of the following words: What do you call a fire that doesn't burn?

"You must get all the nutcases," Myrmidon commented, shaking her head.

"Tell me about it," Damian mumbled.

"Regardless, we have to solve this riddle," Batman began. "As you saw, Edward Nygma is an extreme egotist. The answer to the riddle is most definitely a clue to his plans. He WANTS me to find him."

"If you say so," Myrmidon said skeptically. She tapped her chin. The gears turned in her head. "The answer would have to be some kind of corrosive substance. Chemicals can burn without creating actual fire. If I'm not mistaken, there are plenty of factories in Gotham that produce deadly substances."

Batman nodded. "True. However, Riddler's solutions are never that straightforward. He wants me to think more abstractly…" He trailed off, beginning to pace back and forth in what little space was available inside the data vault. The blue glow of monitors and flashing lights seemed to contrast with his black clothing, making him appear as an even darker void in reality.

Damian and Myrmidon waited patiently for Batman to come up with answer, staring at him as if witnessing an artisan sculpt a masterpiece from a raw block of clay. After all, Enigma was one of the dark knight's regular villains, and no one else in the room had any practical experience with the man.

"I think you were on the right track, Myrmidon," the man in question stated. "The answer isn't the chemicals themselves, but it has something to do with them. Agent Orange comes to mind."

Myrmidon crinkled her nose in confusion. "And what is that, pray tell?"

"A chemical agent used to quickly wither plant material during the Vietnam War. It severely poisoned the skin of anyone it touched, creating the sensation of burning."

She nodded solemnly. The League, and Bruce in particular, had taught her that this world was not as corrupt a place as Diana had originally believed. It was important though, she supposed, to occasionally recall that it could still be quite cruel at times. She shuddered, imagining what Bruce must feel like, having to immerse himself in the very worst that the world could offer on a daily basis.

"If he wanted to lure me into a trap, which he most certainly does, then we're looking for a place associated with one or both of those words," Batman went on.

Damian typed rapidly into one of the computers. "There's a facility currently in operation that fits the description. It's called…"

"Produce Agent; a distribution corporation that deals in fresh fruits and vegetables, including oranges." Batman effortlessly finished. "Moreover, the Gotham branch is a suspected front for Rupert Thorne's drug trafficking."

"That seems a little too convenient," Diana added.

"Yes," Batman answered. "We've had our eyes on that place for a while now. It's more than suspicious that the Riddler would want to direct me there, especially in light of the company he evidently keeps," he said, gesturing to the unconscious thugs.

Both Damian and Myrmidon weren't quite sure what to say next. They paused, waiting to hear his overall analysis. He was the world's greatest detective, after all.

"What's the conclusion?" Damian pressed when there was no forthcoming response.

"I don't know," Batman stoically muttered. "Everything about this story is contradictory. Riddler doesn't deal in trafficking, so the thugs don't fit his usual M.O., or even his wallet. Same with the distribution plant. Stealing the blackmail *does* match Nygma's style, but not the thugs'. Their style syncs with Thorne's smuggling ring, though."

Myrmidon sighed, shifting her body language in frustration. "So we don't know anything?"

"Well, we do know a few things. One, Riddler is involved with someone richer and more powerful than he is. Two, Thorne and Falcone are connected somehow. And three…"

"Something big is going down tonight," Damian finished. "What?" he asked in response to the pair of blank stares. "I get hunches too."

There were a few moments of silence. Then Diana was saying, "I say we go to this plant together, attack as one solid unit. Whoever Riddler's working with, they want to split us up. Divide and conquer."

Batman was shaking his head. "Excellent battlefield advice, but it's not applicable here. This is a battle of wits and information as much as it is a struggle of physical combat."

Myrmidon frowned, squaring herself up to show that she would not back down on this point.

The attempt at intimidation, while it may have melted the resolve of many lesser people, did not seem to faze the dark knight at all. She should've known better. Still, the Greek warrior kept the staring contest going for a while, refusing to back down. It was a battle of wills, each gunning for the role of alpha.

"Look, Princess," Batman growled, stepping within inches of her. "We don't have time for this. We know absolutely nothing about what is going on here. Yes, we'll play right into their hands, but there isn't time for a better option. Sometimes, you just have to deal with a bad situation."

Myrmidon grit her teeth before taking a deep, steadying breath. "I've seen more battles than you've had days in this life. I believe I'm the most qualified person here to judge what is and what is not tactically sound."

Batman's response was both measured and immediate. "And if we were leading a contingent of Amazons into battle against Ares, I'd defer to you completely; but we're not. This is my city, my enemy, my area of expertise. I'm the most equipped one here to formulate a plan by a wide margin."

Myrmidon maintained her obstinacy for a few more moments, then wavered. The validity of his arguments was airtight. That didn't mean she had to like it, though.

"Fine," she grumbled. "Your plan had better work."

Batman eyed her up close for a few more moments. A storm of feelings was clearly billowing between them at the moment. It was best to put that aside for now. He turned on his heel and stalked away.

"Good. You're going to Agent Produce," he said evenly.

Her eyes shot wide open. That certainly hadn't been expected. Her heart fluttered, suddenly feeling contrite for underestimating Bruce's view of her abilities.

"I'm sure you can handle whatever Nygma has planned," Batman said. "Damian, you're staying here to see if you can trace the signal that Riddler used to stream the video."

"And where are you going?" the boy wonder asked.

"To follow up on the old leads you and I didn't finish, and to see if I can track down anything on these mercs."

He paused before leaving, turning around to glance at his female crime fighting partner. She was already grappling up the elevator shaft to the top floor of the building, where Batwoman's repurposed gliding platform awaited.

Damian waited for her to leave. "I'm guessing that you want me to follow her, right?"

Batman nodded. "Stay in the shadows, and only reveal yourself if she needs your help. I'm sure that between the two of you, Riddler won't be a problem."

"It's his allies you're concerned about," Damian extrapolated.

"You're learning," the other muttered slyly before vanishing into the depths of the night.

* * *

As soon as Batman cleared the building and was once again gliding over the skyline of Gotham, he hailed Barbara on the helmet comms.

"Batman to Oracle. There's a signal I need to you trace. Uploading it now."

Miss Gordon didn't answer right away. Then, "I'm on it." She sounded begrudging. The channel stayed open for a few more seconds, as if the redhead was holding back another comment.

"Replaced me already, I see. Tim too." Another pause. A pained chuckle that was barely heard over the tapping of keys. "Only this time, you're actually serious about her, aren't you? For Diana's sake, I really hope you are. That way she'll at least have something left when…"

Barb trailed off into a long sigh. "I'm sorry. That crossed the line."

Batman tried to bury Bruce's regret, but a little sliver shone through. "No. I'm sorry," he whispered through the receiver. "If you want, we can talk about this later. There are…things that I should've said long ago."

No reply came.


	14. Chapter 14

A pair of deeply azure eyes surveyed the scene, their sparkle a testament to the intelligence of their owner. As the orbs swept over the area, they scrutinized it for any sign of danger or aberration. There were none.

An imperceptible silvery flash occurred as the woman shifted her position slightly. At least, there would have been, had she not been sufficiently cloaked from sight by the shadows of the empty parking lot.

Unease; that was the first word that came to her mind. _Why do I feel this way?_ she asked herself, though she knew the answer. _Pull it together, Diana. You're perfectly capable of handling this. Now put that calm mask of confidence on and take a deep breath._

"I see nothing", Myrmidon whispered to herself. The statement was not one of relief, but of frustration. If there was one thing that she had learned from Batman, it was how to look beyond what was plastered before one's eyes and intuit the truth beneath.

In this case, it was plain that there were no guards, traps, lights, or any other obvious sings of activity near the Produce Agent distribution plant. In other words, there was nothing obvious to indicate a trap.

Which meant that there most certainly was one. Of that there could be no doubt.

However, Diana was here to do a job. The Riddler must be truly dangerous to warrant

Batman's concern, she reasoned, and therefore had to be stopped before innocent lives were put at risk. If Batman's analysis of the villain was to be trusted (and there was no one else she trusted more on this earth, Diana reminded herself), then playing Nygma's game was the best way of defeating him. Trap or no, Riddler wanted the Dark Knight here. Myrmidon resolved that she would make him regret enticing Batman to send her on his trail.

Without further hesitation, the silver-grey figure sleuthed through the darkness of the night, making not a single sound. The exiled amazon had learned to hunt game in the sacred forests of Themiscyra. Ever since she was a young girl, Diana had been perfecting that art. In this case, the only difference was that her prey was an evil puzzle maker and not a deer.

Minutes later, Myrmidon crouched on the roof of the old fruit distribution plant. The place was completely shut down; rusted, dirty, and dark. Luckily, she had night vision lenses and a lack of aversion to grit. Using the "detective vision" Batman had installed in her cowl, Myrmidon scanned for anything that might suggest a trap, bomb, or security feature. Safe ingress verified, Myrmidon descended a rooftop access ladder.

Once inside, she began to explore the structure. Although she made liberal use of both the detective vision and her own keen senses, the warrior woman could not find a single thing of interest in the outer rooms and offices. The entire upper level was deserted, bereft of people, weapon crates, bombs, drugs, or any vile plots. She began to wonder if the whole affair was simply a clever diversion from the real threat.

In any case, Myrmidon knew that the report to Batman had to be conclusive. Determined to prove her capability, she dropped quietly from some scaffolding to the factory floor, ready to scan it for evidence as well.

The instant her toes touched the pavement, blinding white lights flickered on with a loud clicking sound. She momentarily staggered, covering her eyes as she gasped in shock. Stars danced behind her tightly shut eyelids as a sudden headache intruded her brain. Myrmidon willed the pain away and concentrated on recovering herself.

The light faded. The amazon princess had her wits about her instantly, ready to face the trap that had just been sprung on her. What she saw was something that she could not have expected.

There, at the other end of the factory, was an extremely bulky and muscled man. In fact, he was easily a broader and more thickly built person than Batman by nearly two times over! He wore a black leotard, blue tights, and a gaudy luchadores mask over his face. His posture was overly confident, but spoke of his martial skill. Clearly, this person fancied himself some kind of macho wrestler.

These features were not his strangest, though. That description belonged to the numerous green tubes that protruded from some kind of metal device on his back and were connected to his arms, legs, and head.

"Oh? And who is this?" the man asked dryly. His tone implied a Latino descent, Myrmidon noticed. That would certainly explain the mask and choice of attire.

"I could ask you the same question," Diana observed in a steely tone, still blinking away the light spots. "I am Myrmidon."

The wrestler chuckled. It was a whimsical, mocking noise that carried the suggestion of a threat. "First children, and now the almighty Batman sends a girl to do a man's work? How pathetic. And to think that this man is my most hated enemy. It is absurd!" He trailed off, laughter rasping off the placid factory walls.

These comments earned a scowl from Myrmidon. Her visage actually halted the cocky man's laughter for an instant. He suppressed an actual shiver from the dangerous glare, wondering if perhaps he had underestimated her. He brushed the notion away and decided to pretend as if the fleeting moment had never happened.

"If you truly work for him, then surely you know my name. But I will tell you anyway. I am the one known as Bane." When the title failed to draw recognition from her, Bane chuckled again. "Ha! You fight for him but you know nothing of his greatest adversary. How foolish you are, darling." He rolled his shoulders and stretched casually.

Myrmidon's response was as icy as the river Styx. "You are the foolish one if you continue to antagonize me," she said, "for I will instruct you to regret it." The words hung in the air for several moments.

Bane frowned. "I no longer find your childish bravado so amusing. I think I'll teach you a lesson, puta!"

At the conclusion of the sentence, the man rushed forward, shoulders forward in an obvious attempt to bowl her straight over. His body propelled itself through the air like a speeding missile of muscle, closing the distance between them in mere moments.

Diana's reflexes were equally fast. She timed her dodge perfectly, leaping aside from the charge almost at the last second. She somersaulted, twisted through the air, and landed on her feet behind and to the side of Bane. However, the man anticipated her motion. He wheeled around, fists swinging through the air.

She was momentarily caught by surprise, not anticipating speed with which Bane could move his large frame. As a result, Myrmidon just barely managed to duck in time, having to fall flat to evade the strike quickly enough.

Bane was immediately looming over her, preparing to body slam or grapple. If he managed to grab her, Myrmidon knew, she was as good as dead. Contorting herself, she rolled backwards and kicked upward, hands pushing off of the ground for leverage. Her feet propelled into Bane's stomach, imbued with the bonus force of the agile maneuver, as well as the wrestler's own forward momentum. She felt a few ribs crack and organs squish. The man's skin rippled and bruised.

A string of foreign curses exited Bane's mouth as he reeled from the mighty blow. This lent Diana enough time to continue the roll and launch herself to her feet once more. She came up a several yards away, facing the man.

"Submit!" the silver-clad woman barked. "Or that will be merely a small taste of your punishment."

Bane chuckled again, only to wince from the pain that pooled in his gut like cold fire. This time, the sound was ominous. "This fight hasn't even begun, girl," he said, reaching for a metal dial on his wrist that Diana hadn't noticed before.

He spun it radically. A moment later, his veins began to bulge as if they meant to free themselves of his skin, becoming a foul shade of green in the process. Bane screamed in agony as his muscles bulged, expanding so rapidly that his frame contorted in a disgusting fashion. Bones popped audibly as they rearranged themselves to accommodate the new form. Myrmidon had to suppress her nausea at the sight of the hideous transformation.

Only seconds had passed, and yet Bane had swelled to more than thrice his size. He was now an obscene mass of muscle and seething fury.

"I'LL BREAK YOU, AND THEN THE BAT!" Bane roared, his words causing Diana's ears to ring in protest at their volume.

As he thundered his way towards her, she could not help but feel a pang of fear deep inside. Swallowing it, the woman struck up a fearsome fighting stance and issued a valiant Amazonian war-cry.

* * *

"Please, I don't know nothing about no snake-gangs. Honest!"

Batman scowled at the pleading street thug which dangled upside-down over the side of the abandoned building. That was not the answer that he had wanted to hear, and the thug knew it.

The man licked his lips nervously, beads of sweat rolling down his face and neck. "Looklooklook…" he stammered wildly, "I wasn't, I mean, I p-promise I wasn't gonna, you know, d-do what you're thinking I was gonna to do. I j-just wanted her w-wallet. Serious…seriously."

Batman paused for dramatic effect, then used the concealment that his cape offered to secretly tap a button on his belt, enabling detective vision. All the thug saw was the vigilante's eyes suddenly glow a wan shade of blue. He yelped in surprise, then took a loud gulp to swallow his terror.

Meanwhile, Batman analyzed the thug's vital readings. It was a result that his deep medical knowledge told him was consistent with a truth response. That was good; it meant he didn't need to starting breaking any ribs. As for the part about the "snake-gang" …well, Batman hadn't expected this guy to know much about that in the first place.

Batman leaned in really close and growled in the thug's face, "Good. You get off easy…this time. Provided you tell me who *would* know if there are any new movers or shakers in town."

The man gulped again, hesitating. His eyes darted back and forth.

"Fine. If that's how you want it…I clearly have no use for you anymore," Batman stated coldly. He stepped back a few paces.

"Whoa…you can't just leave me here, man!"

Batman's eyes narrowed, sending artic chills up the criminal's spine. "Who says I'm going to leave you?"

Another gulp, and a mask of confusion.

An instant later, the thug saw a razor-sharp throwing blade appear in Batman's hand. He only had time to scream before the weapon whistled through the air, heading straight for the cable that suspended him above a fifty-foot drop.

At the last second, the blade veered away from the cable, missing it by a hair's breadth. The thug's chest heaved and he was drenched in cold sweat. After a moment, the projectile returned to the Batman's hand like some kind of demonic boomerang.

"Looks like my aim is off tonight," Batman said casually, arm crooked for another through.

"Okayi'lltellyou!" the thug blurted between body-shaking gasps.

"I'm waiting," Batman said, still aiming the weapon.

The dangling man spoke as evenly as possible, the words coming out like a waterfall. "I know a guy…names Earnest Wilde. He's like a fixer, gives me jobs and shit. Smash and grab type stuff. I used to be a technician, so I hack short circuit alarms and crap for him. Anyway, he's a real bad dude. Not a fuckup trying to survive like me. Extortion, bribery, rape, murder, you name it. Even trafficking." He shuddered. "Guy's big time gangster. Works for a lot of the mafias. If there's some new group in town, he would know."

Batman cocked his head. "You had better be able to tell me where this fellow can be found, or…"

"Nexus Hardware! Warehouse on 227th street, makes fancy computer cards. Ernie needs em' for some reason. He's hittin' it tonight, with a different crew. Two more guys, heavily armed."

Batman nodded. More truth readings for the entire spiel. "You've been very helpful," he said, tossing pellet near the man's face. It exploded, covering him with knockout toxin. He coughed, then went limp. Tomorrow morning, he would wake up in this garbage dump of a building with distorted memories of the night before. It was how Batman kept his interrogation tactics fresh for repeat criminals, after all. As a side bonus, it added to his seemingly supernatural reputation.

Within minutes, Batman was perched on the side a building that overlooked Nexus Hardware. He activated his detective lenses again, seeing the x-ray outlines of three men inside the building. One stood on watch, heavy assault rifle pointed in the general direction of the door. Another seemed to be busy rifling through the warehouse, loading equipment into a bag. A third could be seen in between the two as if supervising.

Batman typed a few keys on his wrist computer, causing a nearby Waynetech drone to listen in on the building. Not a peep could be heard inside, save for the shuffling of feet and the sounds of silicone being jangled around. These guys where a little smarter and more professional than average criminals. Batman knew that he was going to have to plan his attack carefully.

Just as he had discarded three strategies and settled upon a sound fourth, a sweet voice chirped in his ear.

"Myrmidon here. I'm at the factory, getting ready to take a look around."

"Good," Bruce responded, trying to climb out of the distracted state that he found himself in upon hearing her voice. "Take your time and stay vigilant. We have no clue what Riddler could be planning."

Rather than take it as pandering insult as her first impulse told her to, Diana accepted the advice in stride. She had to admit, it was sound. "Will do."

A delay. Then…

"What's your status?" a feminine but firm voice asked.

"Following up a lead on our Copperheads," Batman answered. "I'm going in now."

"Roger," Myrmidon answered. Although the response was largely professional, Bruce perceived an undercurrent of worry. Now was not the time to dwell on it, though. Besides…he had an ace in the hole.

"Robin?" Batman asked, patching himself to a different channel.

"Don't worry. I'm right behind her," a dull but high-pitched boy's voice answered.

Batman nodded. "Excellent. Has she spotted you?"

"Not unless she has eyes on the back of her head and sees in the infrared spectrum," Damian deadpanned. "Wait…that's not one of her powers, is it?" he sarcastically asked.

"I certainly hope not," Batman joked just as dryly. "But who can keep track of all of them anyway?"

"Not that it matters anymore," Damian stated, his tone suddenly turning somber.

Bruce snapped back to reality, reminding himself of how Diana had fallen from her lofty position as Wonder Woman. No, not fallen, he corrected; her title had been unjustly stolen even though she had done nothing wrong. Well, save for fall in love, that is. No one should be punished for doing something as innocuous as that, of all things. Thinking about it made his blood boil. If Hippolyta were standing before him right now…he was certain that he would do something regrettable, rigid emotional discipline be damned.

Bruce sighed and compartmentalized his wrath. There were other things to consider for the moment.

"Don't worry, we'll get her through this," Bruce stated, afraid of saying too much while 'on the job', so-to-speak.

Silence. Then, "I certainly hope so, and you've got that right." The young Robin tried to be as monotone as possible, but a hint of frustration and genuine concern showed through. After a moment, he said "Alright, she's going in."

"Good. Do not hesitate to radio me if you two get into trouble." After all, the whole point of sending Damian after her was to provide insurance against Diana's stubbornness and reckless attitude.

Bruce's trepidation intensified, however, when his son disconnected the line without acknowledging his command. Perhaps in retrospect, Damian was not quite the right person to provide a counterpoint to Diana. He could be just as headstrong.

In fact, the whole exchange had him thinking that his son was not all that dissimilar from both he and his…girlfriend? All three of them were excessively stubborn and overly self-confident. It was no wonder that both of the people whose names began with "D" in his life got along so well. With a cringe, he realized that they almost seemed like a perfect family.

Damian was clearly more like his father overall, though. He seemed to possess all of Bruce's traits, only ramped up to eleven. At times, his simmering anger and reserved personality concerned him. Thus, it was refreshing to see that Damian cared deeply enough about Diana to be troubled by the fall-from grace she had endured, try as he might to conceal that fact. Fiery passion beneath a guarded shell.

Bruce realized his hands were clenching tightly again. The Batman was re-asserting control. Within moments, Bruce was buried again so that the night terror known as the Batman could take the reins once more.

Settling on one of the avenues of attack that he had mentally gone over before, Batman swooped down upon the hardware warehouse to begin his assault.

One of the thugs was watching the door, and there were no other entrances (for security reasons—Gotham was a dangerous city). Therefore, a stealth entrance would be nearly impossible. Thus, Batman didn't aim for the door. Instead, he aimed for a wide window right next to the main entrance.

Glass shattered in every direction, but he was protected from the cutting shrapnel by his suit. The thug was not so lucky; he threw up his hands a moment too late and was sliced in multiple places by the shards. Just for good measure, Batman tossed a spray of small, metal pellets into the air as well.

The room exploded with sound and light. The shouting and cursing voices of the three robbers clashed with the angry ringing of the flash bangs. By the time the doorman had recovered, Batman was nowhere to be seen, having used all the commotion as a chance to hide.

"Behind the rows!" The man in the middle, presumably Earnest Wilde, yelled at his goons, referencing the tall, industrial-size shelves on either side of the men.

An instant later, the doorman opened fire with his AK-47 while Earnest whipped out a .44 Magnum. A spray of bullets tore through the flimsy plastic crates that lined those shelves, spelling doom for any living thing on the other side…which is exactly why Batman wasn't there.

Meanwhile, the third man, who had been rifling through the loot, sprinted across the room to reach his shotgun. Moments before reaching it, some kind of metal claw attached to a cable appeared out of nowhere and ripped the gun away from him.

"The fuck!?" The baffled criminal gasped. He recovered quickly though, and followed the path of the cable back to its owner. Although he couldn't see Batman's location, he pointed in the general vicinity.

"Shit, you see him?" the doorman questioned.

"Over there!" the would be-shotgunner yelled, pointing at the ceiling.

Muzzle fire illuminated the area, revealing a Batman who hung there menacingly, white eyes boring straight into them.

Unfortunately for the criminals, their enemy was already moving. They only saw him in between the muzzle flashes, which gave him a chance to outpace their bullets by moving erratically. They began to panic, screaming in terror and firing desperately. Needless to say, this did not improve their aim. Many bullets whizzed past Batman and ricocheted off the ceiling.

Two black streaks materialized, slamming into the men's heads, the impact knocking them backwards and dazing them. By the time the doorman recovered, Batman had dropped from the ceiling and swiftly knocked him out. Earnest, though, had his wits about him much quicker. Leaning against the shelf for support, he leveled the ridiculously powerful revolver at the Dark Knight.

Batman had expected this, and he was ready. His fingers were already on a special button affixed to his utility belt. He pressed it firmly, detonating the explosive gel on the other side of the shelf that Earnest was leaning on.

The man grunted as he was thrown violently to the side. He did manage to pull the trigger, but the bullet missed by a light year. The shelf toppled over, spilling piles of heavy boxes right on top of the criminal. Earnest groaned in pain from under the mountain of clutter.

"Where do you think you're going?" Batman asked calmly, spinning around to face the front door again. The final thug was just about to bolt outside. He didn't make it. A bola whizzed right into him, entangling his limbs. He crashed to the warehouse floor helplessly.

"Oh god, what are you going to do?" the man asked, wriggling as if he thought that he could somehow free himself fast enough to escape.

"Just this," Batman said, then knocked him out with a solid punch.

Minutes later, he had the two goons tied up. Then he hauled the still-groaning, disoriented Earnest into a chair and hovered over him like a black cloud of doom.

"What are you going to do?" the vile man mocked, chuckling wryly. "Kill me? Everyone knows the Bat doesn't kill." He spat on Batman's cape defiantly and smirked.

A gauntleted hand shot out like lightning and bent Earnest's index finger in half with a disgusting cracking sound. The criminal swallowed his yelp of pain, trying to fight off the waves of cold fire that assaulted his nerves. He teared up, but managed to refrain from screaming.

"That's…cute," Earnest joked humorlessly. "I've received far worse than that."

Batman peered intently at the man. He was sweating and panting profusely, but otherwise seemed to be able to handle the pain. From all the scars on his face, Batman wasn't surprised. And now that he saw his face up close, he recognized the man as a notorious criminal who was federally wanted; Earnest Wilde was merely an assumed name. Batman had even studied his file personally. To his dismay, the thug he had interrogated earlier hadn't been joking about the vile crimes this man had committed. It was dark stuff.

"And you get bet your caped ass I've given it just as bad plenty times to those girls," he cackled. "Some of them were just kids. But I'm guessing you knew that, didn't you?"

Batman shoved his face an inch away from the psychopath's, scowling at him hatefully. "What are you going to do? Torture me? That's rich. I know you don't do that either."

Batman leaned back, then calmly went about strapping the still-dazed man to the chair, during which time the latter constantly spewed taunts. Then, just as calmly, Batman began methodically breaking all of the man's fingers. By the fourth one, 'Earnest' couldn't contain his agony. He began whimpering and screaming. Batman didn't let it stop him.

"I make exceptions," Batman said evenly. "Now, you're going to answer all my questions. If you don't, I'll make your every waking moment a nightmare. If there's one thing I know, you better believe that it's pain."

Earnest nodded obediently, but just for good measure, Batman popped a pellet containing mild, temporary fear gas in his face.

Screaming echoed off and on through the crisp winter air of Gotham for approximately the next 20 minutes, causing nearby lurking criminals to reconsider their nightly exploits.

The Bat's crusade had claimed another victim.

* * *

The gargantuan avalanche of the muscle that was called Bane (if it could be rightly said that any amount of 'Bane' was left in the raving berserker, that was) bore down on Myrmidon. She tensed her muscles, preparing to evade the charge again. Her plan was to mimic the tactics that she had seen Batman use against stronger opponents such as Kalibak. In fact, she'd even convinced Batman to teach her that fighting style out of pure intellectual curiosity. Now that she was sans-blessings, the techniques were infinitely more practical.

Just before the critical moment to leap aside came, a curious red throwing-blade struck Bane-thing's face. In the instant Myrmidon could perceive before the weapon exploded, it barely failed to scratch the skin of her opponent's face, if it all.

Orange fire engulfed his body. Crackling flames and waves of popping force radiated from him. Hot air billowed at Myrmidon, who was mostly protected from the blast by the high-tech armor that she wore.

Bane gargled a string of curse words, but was abruptly silenced. A red, yellow, black, and green streak slammed against the back of Bane's head. The blow was perfectly timed. Bane lurched forward, confused and weakened by the combination assault.

The blur rolled forward, somersaulting over the luchadores criminal. It landed several feet to Myrmidon's right. She saw out of the corner of her eye that it was Damian.

"I am beginning to see that that is your favored move," the silvered Greek soldier observed.

The boy shrugged. "What can I say, it is a tactically sound stealth attack."

She smiled. "You are beginning to sound like an Amazon."

Bane stumbled backward, and Myrmidon's first instinct was to leap into striking range. The notion of a deceptive opening seemed dubious for the mindless beast. Something tempered her fervor, though.

Perhaps it was Batman's stern lecture earlier that night. Instead, she decided to put some distance between herself and the foe. Damian followed her.

The stratagem turned out to be a wise one. Bane recovered, then charged again. Dividing his attention between two valid targets appeared to tax the fragile sense of concentration his raging mind possessed. Dodging him was child's play. As a result, he received a concentrated hit that forced him to collide with a row of factory equipment. A loud metallic screech reverberated through the factory as Bane rolled around in the pile of mechanical detritus.

"Any suggestions?" Myrmidon asked, hoping for a detailed analysis of the enemy.

Robin rattled a checklist of data off like a human computer as he and his female companion evaded the chunks of robotics that Grunting-Bane launched at them. "Bane. Experimental soldier test subject escapee, presumed dead (until now that is). Physiology adapted with a compound known as 'Venom'. The source of his transformation, as you might surmise. Weak point: his supply of Venom. Too much or too little and cellular degeneration commences. A nerve gas also works, but Batman did not foresee its necessity."

Myrmidon smiled, impressed with the boy's mental acuity. He was like a younger version of Bruce in that respect. Really, it should not have surprised her. But then again, the Amazonian princess-in-exile was unadjusted to the concept of biological children.

"I hacked the Batcomputer shortly after arriving there," Damian stated by way of explanation when he saw her masked face staring at him. He smirked that self-satisfied smirk that was just so… _Wayne._

"Look out!" Robin shouted, breaking her reverie. He fired a wrist grapple at the ceiling, swung across the chasm created by two rows of shipping crates, and tackled Diana head-on. Sensing what was happening in time, but unable to react fast enough to dodge on her own, she let herself go-off balance and tip over intentionally. The duo lost their air, grunted, fell over the side, and rolled under some machinery.

During the frantic jostle, Robin's hands landed in some…suggestive places on her anatomy. A jolt of panic ran through him. He wanted to swear to her that it was an accident, but couldn't make the words come out. He thanked the god that he didn't believe in that there was a layer of metal in-between.

Bruised, battered, but not too worse for wear, the duo awkwardly untangled themselves and crawled out from under the old junk. They were now crouched in a concealed position against one edge of the factory.

Myrmidon noticed that her (saying younger would be an understatement) companion's face had turned beet read, though he did his best to look indignant and non-plussed. She could not discern the cause, and this troubled her.

"Are you okay?" the soft, caring voice of Diana asked. She could hear Stomping-Bane on the other side of the factory, trashing the area in order to find them, so she deemed it prudent to take a moment to assess the condition of her troops. Which was, in this case, one flustered twelve-year-old boy.

"Nothing! It was…I'm fine," Robin half pouted, half barked in his petulant manner.

Had she not been wearing a mask, Diana would have worn a curious frown. She could divine no good reason why he should feel embarrassed. Perhaps the boy was injured? It was reasonable: if he was Bruce's child, he may also share Batman's traits of ill-advised independence and zealous pride. The notion irritated her, but there was no obvious sign of injury. Perhaps it was something else, such as some strange man's world custom?

Myrmidon shook herself out of it. Now was not the time for silly guessing games. Stomping-Bane was now Roaring-Bane. He'd find their hiding spot eventually.

"We are not calling him for backup," Damian stated in an attempt to change the topic. Diana could sympathize. She peered at him, and a moment of silent communication passed between the strange pair. They each saw something in the other that was fiercely resolute. Both were eager to prove themselves. Diana nodded in agreement.

"Alright then," she eventually answered, returning to the commanding and matriarchal tone that befit a warrior princess. "If we are going up against this deadly foe, I need to know that you are focused."

Damian nodded slowly, dispelling whatever curious emotion Myrmidon had initially perceived from his head entirely.

"Good," the commanding heroine went on. "Here is what we are going to do…"

* * *

"A woman?" a hoarse voice spoke in the dark confines of the nearly-empty room. The speaker puffed his cigar a few times, then wheeled to face the screen. There he saw the avatar of the Riddler in the bottom right hand corner, the rest of the screen occupied by a live feed from the warehouse where Myrmidon and Robin were battling Bane.

"Unless my eyes deceive me, that is what appears to be the case," Edward Nygma replied. "The boy showed up to help her, so he IS there, as you had planned."

The shadowy cigar-smoker grinned. "I cast a net for Batman's son, and get his…what, wife or some shit as well? It must be my lucky day," he observed wryly.

"Indeed," Riddler groaned, rolling his eyes. They hadn't planned her appearance. In fact, they didn't even know who this person was. Clearly, she was a new player in Gotham of some kind. The fact that the plan had reaped this secondary benefit was nothing more than complete luck. But Riddler kept that observation to himself. His compatriot's dollar was simply too good to refuse. Besides, Nygma would have allied with him for free. Anything to bring down the Bat who had slighted his intellect.

"Look at this bitch," Ridder's benefactor said, "She's not like them. The rest of that godamn sappy 'bat-family', that is. I wonder why."

"An astute observation!" Riddler said.

"A new Leaguer, perhaps? But you know as well as I that Batman doesn't permit metahumans in the city."

"In order for him to break that rule, she must be special to him. Combine that with that fact that our DNA analysis of Robin's blood showed him to be a paternal match with Batman…well, what does that tell you?"

The voice chuckled. "The mother, perhaps?" He shrugged, causing his expensive striped suit to crinkle. "In any case, we will soon possess two powerful bargaining chips."

Riddler chuckled along as well. "Shall I activate the brainwave signal now?" he asked gleefully.

"No!" the mysterious man barked. "We wait until Batman is confirmed to be en-route to my location, as was the plan, Nygma!"

Riddler's face went slack. "But…but…" he whined, "We can force his surrender now!"

"That was an order, Nygma," the man growled in an extremely threatening manner. The latter backed down. "Patience," he went on, "and if everything goes well, you'll have your turn torturing the Bat."

It was Nygma's turn to grin evilly.

* * *

At the end of the intense interrogation, Batman felt confident that he was indeed closer to unraveling the Ridder's bizarre mystery. However, it had not happened the way he had expected.

'Earnest' knew nothing about any Copperheads moving into Gotham. Based off the preliminary files in his own data banks, the earlier thug's testament, and the vast supply of illicit knowledge that the trafficker possessed, it was a reasonable assumption that this man would have known about it if that were the case. Additionally, there was no way the man could have been lying. The interrogation had seen to that.

Batman tied up his now unconscious prisoner. He was in a very sorry state, but none of the damage was permanent. It would all heal…in time. It would be a long, painful recovery as well, to say the least. He felt a pang of sickness at his actions, but dismissed them as necessary. Earnest was as hardened as professional criminals came, so extreme force had been necessary to crack him. Besides, he told himself, he saved this kind of treatment for the real scumbags like him. Average criminals got off much easier.

Batman sent a private 'pickup' signal to Gordon, then left the building. He perched on a nearby Gargoyle, pondering the situation.

He was beginning to think that the whole thing was either a red herring, or, alternatively, his detective skills had been worn down by his distracting concern for Diana, causing him to see connections where there were none. This thought was extremely unsettling. In any case, he had a mountain of info on the trafficking operations in Gotham city as a consolation prize. The whole interrogation had been recorded by his cowl lenses and automatically uploaded to the Batcomputer for later reference. So at least some good had come of this foray, he thought grimly.

Perhaps it was time to seek Oracle's counsel. She had to have made some progress on tracing the operations performed by the Waynetech computers Riddler's thugs had hacked.

"Come in, Oracle," Batman said over the comm system.

"Batman!" he heard Oracle yelp, as if surprised while under deep concentration. He could hear her adept fingers rattling on the keyboards.

"Status…" the Dark Knight began.

"Listen. Batman. I looked into that thumb drive…and the results are not good. Not good at all."

"Spit it out," he commanded.

Oracle took a deep breath. "The servers were used to scatter the signal so that the attack couldn't be traced, as well as boost processing power. Somehow, he managed to get into most of our systems, despite the fact that it still shouldn't have been enough processing power. Even more alarming, while Nygma's good, he shouldn't have been proficient enough to break this encryption without some major assistance and expensive tech."

"You're right, that doesn't add up," Batman stated, trying to keep the worry out of his voice and maintain the calm demeanor of a leader. "He should be ruined and broke after our last few bouts. Something more is going on."

"Yes, Batman" Oracle said, rushing her words. "It's like something in the system was outpacing me! Everything I tried was thwarted faster than I could react. And you had better be damn sure that I'm among the fastest."

"What systems are compromised?"

"Status monitoring, communications, and remote tech. If we speak, he can track us on both ends. He'll always know your metabolic states and be able to control any devices you bring online, such as the Batmobile. I started partitioning and wiping everything I could so that he couldn't get access to anything else. He's in those systems for good now, so we'll have to do a secondary clean setup in the future." She spoke with panic, her words contrasted by constant keystrokes in the background.

"Did he…" Batman began, icy fear gripping his heart. A catastrophe would occur if Nygma got any personal information, and not just on him, but those he cared about as well.

"Thankfully, no. Speaking of which, we should get off this channel. I need to go off site and do what I can remotely. He'll have my location, now," Oracle said.

"Good call, and don't tell me anything more," Batman said.

"And please don't tell me what you're going to do either, Batman." Oracle sounded worried and fearful. "That includes Robin and Myrmidon too. You can't contact them without increasing their vulnerability." There was a pause. "I'm leaving a dead drop for you as well, in the old place we used to use. It's critical."

He sighed. "I know. And thanks, Oracle."

"Don't mention it. You too," she said solemnly, then cut the line.

Batman hit the kill switch on his communicator as well. His hands flexed, gloves creaking under the pressure. This night was a total disaster. He blamed himself for bringing Diana along in the first place, as well as for letting concern distract him. It wasn't her fault. He was weak for not being able to put it aside and focus on the mission. He was confident that this was something that could have been foreseen, despite the lack of any indication to that extent.

His family was beset on all sides. They couldn't communicate without exposing themselves to a whole host of risks. Any plan they coordinated could be easily foiled, and that was merely the tip of the iceberg. What if Riddler equipped some mercs with optics keyed to the Bat comm servers, so that stealth tactics were rendered meaningless? The thought was terrifying. Concealment was one of the main tools for a non-powered superhero.

As painful as it was to admit, Batman had to ignore Damian and Diana for now, and instead hope that whatever situation they had landed themselves in, they would achieve success. Ironically, the safeguard he had set up by having Damian shadow her had forced him to confront his nagging doubts concerning both of their competences. His foolish scheming and rabid independence had led him on a wild goose chase that he had erroneously believed to be the true threat, while permitting his loved ones to walk right into a trap. Batman's judgement was indeed brought low this day.

Sure, he could go to the factory, but were they even there? He had no clue what was going on in that location and would essentially be going in blind. What if they were captured? His surrender could easily be negotiated. No, the best move was to check Barbara's dead drop and see if she had supplied pertinent information. Then, he would have to find a way to strike at the mastermind behind all this, figure things out, and rescue the others (if they needed it, that was).

Panic welled up within him, the uncertainty gnawing at his sanity. Riddler had ruthlessly exploited his weak point: emotional attachment, and without even knowing the tragic background of his life.

He strong-armed these feelings aside and took control. It was a difficult struggle, but Batman succeeded. He grappled away into the night, searching for Barb's dead drop.

This task did not take long. Batman found the drop. It was cleverly concealed just inside an exterior vent located on the top of a skyscraper. He removed the vent's grate and retrieved what Barbara had likely programmed a Waynetech drone to deliver: several sheets of paper with hastily drawn maps, one address, and a short message scrawled on it.

According to Oracle's writings, she had managed to locate the origin of the signal that had commenced the hacking operation. The purpose of the drive had merely been to open a vulnerability and provide remote access. In truth, the operation had been initiated from an off-site location: a derelict building in the heart of Gotham's slums.

Batman tapped into his photographic memory and genius level IQ, completely memorizing the information Oracle had provided within minutes. He even committed the building's blueprints, as well all of the diagnostic information on the cyber assaults that she had been able to print out to memory. After doing so, he incinerated all of it.

He knew what he had to do. Although it was impossible to differentiate what was a trap or not through the multiple layers of deception that the Riddler had created, there was only one reasonable course of action: go to the signals' origin. It was the only lead available.

Batman promptly left the rooftop, making as much haste as humanly possible in the direction of the building Barb had found. It was all the way across Gotham, and if her assessment was correct, using the Batmobile or Batwing was simply out of the question.

Hopefully, he could detect the nature of the game that the Riddler (and whoever was backing him) was playing by the time that he arrived. All the pieces were right out in the open for him to study. There had to be an answer.

Steeled by his burning desire to ensure his son's and his girlfriend's safety, he pushed forward towards the unknown, mind and body simultaneously overclocking beyond belief.

* * *

"NOW!" Damian yelled, unleashing a fan of birdarangs on Bane, who was momentarily stunned. The projectiles descended upon him like a plague of insects, exploding, smoking, or electrocuting the raging titan of a man.

At the same moment, Myrmidon willed her armor to thin itself enough to manifest sufficient material to sculpt an object. The neural receptors built into the suit's cowl fired, sending signals through the transformative metal. It did as she commanded, causing a ball of silver-grey goop to pool in her hands. In response, the circuits in the glove section of her armor fired as well, allowing her to assume control of ball's form.

She began molding it, drawing upon her training in the art of ceramics that she had cultivated on Themiscyra. Soon, there was a massive, perfectly-formed shield in her hands. She smiled in satisfaction and hefted the mighty object. Ironic, she thought, that she now possessed a suit capable of sculpting itself to her desires when she herself had been formed of clay. Fate must have a sharp sense of humor indeed.

She peered over the weapon at Bane, who was recovering from Robin's assault. There was no time left for idle thoughts. Now was the moment that their battle plan would finally come to fruition.

Bane roared in anger and swiped savagely at the boy, who back flipped out of the way. Then he fired his wrist grapple to soar across the warehouse. Bane grunted and pursued him, sprinting to keep up with the rapidly-fleeing superhero.

Robin cleverly maneuvered himself to stay just out of Bane's reach, while dangling low enough to taunt the monster with a chance of catching him. As such, Bane wasn't really paying attention when the path of his chase was interposed by Myrmidon. He glanced downward, seeing her cowering behind a shield at the last second. Thinking nothing of it, he swiped her out of the way like crushing a gnat.

Only, he didn't crush her. Not exactly. He did manage to crush her shield, but instead of crumpling it, it flowed like liquid, engulfing his fist. Bane stopped, confused, and tried to shake the material off to no avail.

At the same moment, Robin turned around and threw flash pellets at Bane. The bright light stung his eyes, so he threw up both arms in a cross block to protect himself. He realized his mistake an instant too late when the liquid metal molded around both hands and his face. It hardened, creating a prison of metal. Bane raged, gesticulating blindly.

Robin and Myrmidon knew what they had to do. They bore down on him, unleashing every attack in their arsenal. She struck all the pressure points she could find while evading super-powered kicks. He utilized a grappling wire to trip Bane as his bulging muscles locked under the trauma of the precise hits. The result: a venom-infused wrestler who was moaning, face down on the cold cement.

The pair wasted no time. They were on his back in an instant, ready to sever the tubes which carried venom. He with Ra's' katana, and she with a Grecian xiphos sword. Their strokes were blocked, though, as a steel casing suddenly appeared over the tubes. Their swords, while sharp, could not penetrate the thick, high-tech barrier. Instead, sparks flew everywhere.

"By the Goddess!" Myrmidon exclaimed.

"Well, that's new…" Damian deadpanned. "Bane must have gotten an upgrade." He slashed repeatedly at the armor. It achieved little, other than fueling his frustration and increasing the volume of his grunts.

Diana frowned. In her prime as Wonder Woman, she could have easily ripped these cords out with her bare hands, steel casing or no. "Retreat!" she yelled at Damian, trying to reach him through the boy's fury. Luckily, he seemed to listen, following her hasty backpedal.

Shortly after, Bane exploded off the ground. The metal mask ruptured as well, sending shrapnel everywhere. He flexed, then charged again.

This was bad. Really bad. That failed strategy had been the result of an intense, prolonged battle. Setting it up had expended much effort on their part. On the other hand, Bane seemed to have an infinite supply of Venom and therefore, energy. From Myrmidon's perspective, the battle was seeming less and less in her and Damian's favor.

Both of them rolled away, panting heavily as they desperately tried to come up with a plan.

"It may be time to call him," Myrmidon stated, as much as it wounded her pride. "Batman! Come in, Batman!" The channel seemed open, but there was no connection to the other side. All she heard was static. "Robin, you try. My device may be damaged."

The boy nodded, then yelled "Batman! Batman!" as he dodged a Bane punch. "Just static!?" he shouted over at Myrmidon.

"Same here!" she responded. "I don't know what is…"

That's when the horrid shrieking started. It was atonal, cacophonous, and brain-bending. Somehow it also warbled, like a soundwave composed of many individual tones, both high and low.

Diana and Damian simultaneously collapsed, screaming in pain. The noise, whatever it was and from wherever it came, paralyzed them. They couldn't move and could barely think over the instant and extreme migraine.

Diana felt blood dripping out of her nose, eyes, and ears. She looked over at Damian and saw that he was suffering the same fate. Vaguely, she wondered if there was some way out of this. There had to be. It couldn't end, not like this. If she was to die, she wanted to die blood-soaked on a battlefield, not blood-soaked from an underhanded, ignoble technological trick.

Technology! That was it, wasn't it? The sound had only started after she and Damian had used their communicators. Perhaps Nygma had hacked their communications systems. It still didn't explain the source of the sound, but she'd puzzled out the delivery mechanism. That was something, at least.

"Robin…" she groaned, interrupted by a stab of torturous pain. "The communicators…"

"That's right, bitch," Bane taunted, snatching both of the heroes up in his powerful arms. He held each around the neck at arm's length. His cocky, self-satisfied, thick Latino tone was back. The animalistic rage had been a ruse!

Diana squirmed, dangling from Bane's fist tightly closed around her windpipe. The tone in her ears had stopped, and she recovered herself slightly. Damian appeared to be unconscious or worse. "If you kill us…" she managed to choke out.

"Then what?" Bane said, putting his grotesquely muscular face inches from hers.

"Then Batman will hunt you down and make you regret it!" she snarled.

Bane blinked, then burst out laughing. "Perhaps that is so. I am strong enough to admit that your boyfriend has beaten me on multiple occasions. I've had a great deal of time to reflect on the fact that he is simply a superior fighter than I. I accept this. What I do not accept, however, is defeat. I will claim my vengeance, one way…" he squeezed their throats slightly, "…or another."

Shivers ran down Diana's spine but she refused to give in to the fear. "Oh? And how do you see this ending without either killing us or being killed by him?"

Bane chuckled. "You see, puta, I have a partner. Two of them in fact. Both are very smart (although one much more so than the other), and one is extremely rich. We hatched a plot to deceive and distract the Bat while luring his headstrong son into a trap. You're an added bonus, I suppose. In any case, we can force Batman to surrender because we have you two."

"He'll never do it! You're insane!" Diana shouted, squirming again. In truth, she was not so confident. Ice cold dread filled her veins. Half of her wished that he wouldn't sacrifice himself to save her and Damian. Gotham needed Batman much more than it did either of them put together. Same for the League, now that she didn't have her powers. But on the other hand, she knew it would utterly fracture him if he lost another loved one…let alone two. She could easily imagine the nightmarish vigilante becoming a nightmare for the world. Or worse…a nightmare prison of his own creation.

"We will see," her captor responded. "The clock is ticking, and your man has a date with my ally. It's enough to make you jealous, no?" Bane smirked for a few moments, then frowned at the joke not landing. "Eh, well…I suppose I do not have the blessing of wit like that deceased clown fool. In any case, it all comes down to the outcome of their meeting…"

Bane's arrogant chuckles echoed off of the warehouse walls. Diana did not share in that feeling. Her world was nothing but pure dread.

She desperately prayed to every Themiscryan goddess she could think of, though she secretly doubted that any of them had influence here, let alone cared for her well-being anymore.


	15. Chapter 15

"I'm here. Show yourself!" Batman growled, gracefully landing on the floor of a different nearly-empty warehouse in Gotham. His cape fluttered about, then was wrapped around him like a second skin. He seemed like a vengeful shadow composed nothing but hateful white eyes.

Synthesized, bass laughter came from all around him. His opponent was using a voice modulator to disguise his identity. "Well, well, well. You certainly arrived sooner than I expected. But you're still too late, Batman!" the voice said, seeming to change point of origin constantly. Batman carefully reached for handful of gadgets under his cloak. "I have the upper hand now," the voice went on.

"Is that so…Roman Sionis?" Batman asked, smirking.

A sharp intake of breath. Then, an overhead light flashed on, illuminating the area about a dozen paces around Batman. The mysterious figure stepped into the edge of the light.

"Color me impressed; you figured it out!" the man stated, voice modulator abandoned. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You are the 'world's greatest detective' after all."

It was Sionis…or as Gotham had come to know him, Black Mask. He stood there with his mafia-esque pin-striped suit and horribly burned face. He clutched a .45 magnum pistol in one hand.

"Of course I did. All of the pieces are were there," Batman stated. "You're one of my few rogues left alive and out of prison, and the only one with the resources and management skills to pull this off. Pulling Nygma's strings, supplying the necessary tech, hiring the mercs, it was all a tip off. All of it is just your style. Of course, it helped that this building was registered under your company's holdings before I ruined your scheming."

Mask smiled, saying nothing.

"Surrender…NOW…and I *might* make things easier for you," Batman commanded at him.

Sionis frowned. "Why don't you *get it* yet, Batman," he said, twitching angrily. He seemed unhinged. "You're beaten! You've lost! There is no way out of this for you. Before this night is through, you will pay for what you've done to me!" he screeched, rubbing his face.

"I just got through beating your thugs guarding this place into submission," Batman said. "What makes you think that pistol has chance of stopping me?"

"Honestly?" he asked, glancing at the weapon. "Not much. It's merely my plan C." Mask shrugged, then grinned. "But this…this is my ace in the hole, Batman!" he beamed, pointing to the wall behind him. There was a large flat screen and many computer consoles set up there, but all of it was dark and powered off. "Show him, Nygma!"

The computer servers turned on, fans whirring violently. The screen flashed to life as well. What Batman saw there shook him to the core. Damian and Diana struggled under the crushing grip of Bane. With a flick of his wrist, he could snap their necks like twigs. Or just simply give them the agony of a slow death by suffocation.

Suddenly, Batman wasn't himself anymore. He was merely Bruce, a tortured and lonely billionaire with a dark past. The only two real connections he had to humanity anymore were at the mercy of one of his greatest foes. He felt like his soul was right there along with his son and girlfriend, ready to be annihilated in the grip of the mighty luchador. He had never felt more vulnerable, more desperate in his entire life. A sadistic round of mutilation at the hand of the Joker would be preferable to the way he felt right this instant.

"By your shocked expression, I can tell that you get my point," Mask gloated.

The identities wavered, flickering back and forth. The cloaked vigilante wasn't sure who he was, or even who he needed to be at this moment…who he should be. All he could think about was the terror plastered on the T.V. screen.

His eyes narrowed to white slits. He stalked towards Mask like a demon of the night. "If you do this, Sionis, you'll regret it." His voice was a wretched amalgamation of both the playboy and the deeper pitch of the Bat. It struck the ear oddly, like a discordant harmony.

Mask withered under the glare, but kept his composure. "If you know what's good for em', you'll stop right there, Bats! And if you don't…well then…SNAP!" The words were punctuated by cruel laughter.

Batman did as Sionis ordered. He halted. There was no other way.

"Good boy. See, you're getting the hang of it!" Mask said. He grinned again, delighting in his sway over the Dark Knight, savoring his moment of brilliance and victory like a fine wine.

"How did you do it?" Batman asked, sounding hollow and broken. It was a way to buy time, to give himself a chance to think of something. He wasn't sure that it would even matter. Perhaps it might be better to just get it over with.

Too late. "I languished in prison for years Batman. You destroyed me. You trashed my company, dismantled my crime empire, put me in prison for years, but worst of all; you did THIS to my FACE!" Mask explained, screaming at the end. He calmed slightly. "Despite your best efforts, I had some money saved away in an offshore account. Quite a lot by the average shmucks' standards, but merely a fraction of my previous wealth. It was just barely enough for one final, desperate plan to take you down and get my revenge." He strolled over to the console and took a casual sip of a glass of water sitting there. "So I put those years of isolation to good use. I bribed as many criminals as I could, trying to learn anything and everything about you. I studied your modes of operation, thought process, even fighting style, thanks to a compilation of footage I acquired."

Mask began to pace, suit crinkling. He was anxious to tell his side of the story. Meanwhile, Bruce's mind merely reeled as he half-listened, staring at the screen.

"Those years gave me a lot of time to think, so I hatched the perfect plan. I knew I could never take you down using my old tricks, so it was time for something new. After I was released from Arkham, I enlisted the Riddler to help me play your detective mindset like a cheap fiddle, distracting you long enough to acquire some leverage. I was searching high and low for any kind of human connection; and I have to say, Bats, you're colder and more mechanical than Mr. Freeze in that regard. I was about to give up, when that new Robin bastard showed up. I made a lucky guess, and had his blood tested against some of yours that you both left at a crime scene. Whoever you are, your DNA records are wiped from the system. You must be either rich, connected, or really good at what you do. I couldn't find anything on you two. Like a pair of ghosts. But what I did find, wouldn't you know it; a paternal match!"

Mask picked up his cigar from the ashtray. He took a long drag, then puffed the smoke slowly. "A damn good brand," he said. "Almost tastes as good as hurting you is going to be!" he said, adjusting his tie. "But, I digress. In any case, I knew if that if there was a way to bring down the Batman, it had to be through family. It always is. Even the most heartless killers have families you can leverage. It's something you learn in the Mafia. So I thought 'Hey, the Bat's only human, after all. I'll threaten his kid!' Clumsy, I know, but I was running out of options. I must have gotten lucky, though, because your whore of a girlfriend, wife, or whatever the fuck that tramp is to you, she showed up as well!

"As you might surmise, Bane was merely a distraction. I upgraded his venom tubes to make it very unlikely that Robin could defeat him without your help. But he was really just a placeholder until that sonic tone could kick in, once I knew your communications were down." He took a congratulatory puff and chuckled a bit more.

"How did you beat Oracle? And what sonic tone are you talking about?" Bruce asked vaguely.

"Oh, that's the best part," Sionis said, as if he'd forgotten it. "Nygma did some digging into that fiasco at the summit where Jervis Tech mind-controlled you. Turns out that Tech wasn't really killed when his brains were blasted out. You see, he was so practiced at integrating his mind with machine, and the connection between him and his tech was so strong, the poor fool got uploaded to the servers! That's right, ol'Hatter boy is now an A.I. Riddler found his data-stream or some other kind of egghead nonsense and slaved the poor guy to his command." He finished the monologue by pointing at the servers next to the screen.

No wonder Oracle had been out-hacked, Batman thought. It also explained why the signal had originated from here. Mask probably could have had Jervis scatter it, but clearly he wanted Batman to come here. It also meant that Hatter was solidly trapped in this system. They wouldn't want him escaping. When Batman somehow got out of this, he would make sure to destroy those hard drives. Assuming, of course, that there was a way out to begin with. The hypothesis seemed untenable.

Mask continued on, oblivious to Batman's internal thoughts. "The best part was, we had access to all of Hatter's mental research. There was no way to properly set things up to control your minds, so we used a modified version of the brainwave signal. Once the comms were hacked and we could reasonably assume that you had deactivated yours, but hers and Robins were still in, we waited until they called for you. Then…WHAM! Instant headache."

Batman listened in silence. Deep down, a part of him had to admit that it was a clever and well-executed plan. Mask had hit all of his weak spots in an extremely organized fashion. It was like watching Diana collapse after he had hit her with a barrage of pressure point strikes when they'd first dueled, the amazon woman underestimating the abilities of a mere mortal.

Diana…Damian…that memory shocked him back to reality. He had to do something. But what? The situation seemed hopeless.

"Come on, jackass. You have to admit that was fucking clever. No? Well, you're no fun," Mask pouted. "Well I suppose I've had my moment. Time for yours. Time for the reckoning."

Sionis strolled away and returned with a cardboard box. He kicked it over to Batman. "Open it," he barked.

The latter hesitated slightly, then brushed off the lid with his foot. Inside was a syringe. Batman's cowl lenses performed a chemical analysis. It was a very powerful sedative.

"I think you know what you need to do with that," Mask said. When Batman didn't answer, he elaborated. "Inject yourself, or they die. It's that simple. Either you hand yourself over to me, or you I'll take your heart anyway. Better make your decision…clock's ticking!"

Batman was deep in contemplation while Sionis cackled madly. His analytical mind flickered to life, but it was useless for once. There was no logical puzzle to solve, no mystery to crack. Not anymore. There was just the damn syringe and two of his loved ones at the mercy of hardened killers.

No, this was a test of the heart. A test of his mental and emotional fortitude. But how could he triumph? These were not his strong suits. At least, not when it came to protecting the innocent. Another weakness of his, out in the open for Black Mask to trample all over.

Any bravado and threats he might be able to muster were meaningless, and his foe knew it. Any attempt to intimidate the man would be met with mockery at best, and at worst, the deaths of his lover and son. Another layer peeled away. His layer of fear.

"By all means, take your time," Mask said. "I just can't guarantee that Bane's patience will last much longer. Isn't that right, Bane?" His query was answered with Diana and Damian squirming harder, pressure on their throats increasing.

Bruce's heart nearly stopped. This was desolation. This was the end. He didn't think he'd go out like this. But it was a better alternative than dying a different kind of death, as Diana had put it. A death of the soul. He wasn't brave enough to face a world without them. He was terrified of what kind of monster he might become. Although there was a good chance they'd be hurt anyway, he had to try to save them. He couldn't make the hard choice. He was too weak to take that burden on his conscience, and it rattled him to the core. Of all the things he'd had to do during his tenure as Batman…and this was the line he wouldn't cross. How poetic.

There was simply no dancing around the truth: Bruce was standing at the maw of the abyss.

That's when it hit him. The flashback. The memory was as crisp and clear as the moment after it had happened. It always was; etched on his brain like graffiti, whether in nightmare or in daydream. A monstrous fiend stalking him from the corner of his vision at all times.

He was an eight-year old boy again, kneeling in a pool of blood in a filthy alleyway. He stared into the cold, dead eyes of his mother and father. Raindrops soaked him, but he didn't notice or even care. All he knew was that he was alone in a terrifying world filled with misery, torment, and isolation. And the killer…he was sprinting away from the scene, uncaring and ignorant to the depth of the pain he had just caused.

The dreamscape warped. Now his mother was Diana, and his father became Damian. He was soaked in their blood, necks snapped in a grimy warehouse. Instead of Joe Chill running away, the murderer was Bane, hovering over Bruce, casting his shadow on the broken man. Languidly, Bane snapped a punch into Batman's face. He didn't even try to evade it. There was no point. He didn't care.

As the blow descended, the dreamscape changed once more. Now he was the one lying on the wet pavement, lifeless eyes staring upwards without seeing. Diana and Damian kneeled in a pool of his blood, sobbing uncontrollably as they mourned him. Diana wore Martha's pearls, and Damian seemed to resemble the visage of a young Bruce. And there, in the background, was Joe Chill. Only instead of wearing his own face, Chill wore a black mask. He raised the smoking .45 to his cigar, the heat of the barrel lighting it. Mad laughter emanated from his throat.

Back in the warehouse, cold sweat ran down Bruce's entire body. Tears of frustration and pain came as well, hopefully disguised as more sweat. He could not accept these premonitions of the future. He *would* not. Bruce made his own future. That's why he had donned the cape and cowl in the first place, all those years ago. Just as his crusade bent Gotham to the past he wished that he could have had, Batman could mold the future to this ideal as well. He only had to summon him, summon the bat back and give him control.

It would not be easy, he knew. But he had stood on the precipice of the abyss before, and on that occasion, he had drawn out something from it…something horrible. Something stronger.

Bruce steeped away from the precipice. He couldn't survive in there. But he knew someone who could.

The physical body of Bruce blinked. The Bat was in firm control again, and he could not only survive in the abyss…but called it his home, as well.

His foot kicked out, sending the box skidding back over to Mask, who was taken aback by the raw audacity. "No." Batman simply stated.

"What do you mean, no?" Mask complained. "I'll kill them! You know it!"

"I do," Batman began, "and you're dead wrong if you think that I don't care."

"Then what…" Mask started.

He was cut short by Batman, who began inching closer. His eyes were mere slits and his face was twisted in a demonic expression that incited horror in the other man. "But if Bane does it, your suffering will be merely a fraction of what they receive."

Mask gulped and began sweating nervously himself. "I call your bluff, Batman!" he said, jabbing the gun at him. "You and I both know that you don't kill."

"You're right, I don't," Batman conceded. "I don't have to kill you, though. In fact, killing you is the last thing I'd do. It would cut the fun short." Claws and an array of sharp blades appeared in Batman's hands. "I have extensive knowledge of the human anatomy. For instance, did you know that it is possible to live a long, healthy life, die of old age, and still be tortured every. Single. Waking. Moment? The most painful operations aren't even life threatening."

Mask gulped and began to shake in terror. He backed away slowly, unable to take his eyes off the advancing creature. He could tell from the expression in his face that Batman was being as serious about what he was saying as anyone had ever been about anything.

"So, Mask, the real question is not 'what is my decision?'. It's 'what is yours?'."

Sionis tugged at his collar. "Bane, release them," he replied.

Batman heard the mercenary's response over the mic. "Don't let him intimidate you like that? We can…"

"Nygma, soundwave Bane."

"What! You can't do that!" Bane protested. He wavered, scared of taking his hands off the prisoners to remove the communicator from his ear.

Riddler appeared on screen, broadcasting from elsewhere. "Are you…" he began.

"DO IT!" Mask screamed, cowering from Batman, who was still approaching.

The screen flashed back to the other warehouse. Bane collapsed, screaming. Diana and Damian were free, and from the look of it, ambulatory. That was good.

"Face it Mask, you're through," Batman said, stopping his approach. "Surrender." He was about ten yards away.

Sionis turned around and gesticulated at the screen. "I failed…you've won again," he lamented. "My plan, torn to shreds by a fatal flaw. Who knew you had balls like that, Batman? I didn't guess it, apparently." He shrugged. "It's okay. I'm resigned to my fate. At least I'll still claim my just deserts, no matter what!" Mask proclaimed.

"What are you talking about?" Batman asked, curious.

"This," Mask said, wheeling to face him. He held a detonator in his hands. "See you in Hell, Batman!"

In the split second he had to react, Batman assessed the situation. Roman must have rigged the building to explode. A finger flew like lightning and pressed a signal jammer on his utility belt.

The button clicked, but nothing happened.

"He's jammed the signal!" Riddler said, dominating the screen once more.

At the same moment, Mask leveled his gun at Batman. "Curse you, Batman, and all your lame-ass tricks!" He fired a spray of high-powered bullets at the vigilante. "You *really* know how to kill a good time, don't you?"

Batman sprung into motion. He dodged, leaped, spun, and flipped, contorting at random and seemingly impossible angles to avoid the bullets. He even whipped his cape in patterns to distract and confuse his attacker.

Batman closed the distance, his tactics had worked. Almost.

Just before reaching Mask and delivering a well-timed strike, a .45 round slammed into the meat of his left shoulder. The shockwave was felt like being hit by a car. Batman stumbled backwards, energy draining as his limbs refused to work properly. Blood gushed from the hole, but luckily the flow was somewhat stymied by the fact that the bullet was lodged in his body. He could feel it. WayneTech microfiber armor was strong, but not strong enough to stop such a high powered bullet at close range. Still, it had probably saved his life, the fiber lessening the impact enough to prevent another bloody exit wound.

Mask's gun clicked repeatedly as he tried to fire rounds that weren't there anymore. "Damn! Well at least I got you once," he said, reloading. "Did I learn your moves well, or what?" He aimed the gun at Batman again, who was prone.

With faster reaction time, Batman aimed a grappling cable over his shoulder. Launched with nearly the force of a bullet, the spear-like hook end embedded itself in a steel girder that was part of the roof. The high-tensile cable retracted immediately, yanking the injured hero out of the path of the bullet. It ricocheted uselessly off the concrete floor, sparks flying everywhere.

Several more rounds whizzed past Batman, who was moving too fast for Mask to track. The ex-mobster was not stupid, so he decided not to waste another precious clip. With grimacing effort, Batman was able to land on the top of the girder, perched there in the safe embrace of shadows while he got his bearings.

"You're not getting away from this!" Mask called after him. A batarang collided with his temple in retaliation. The man crashed to the ground, stunned. He was a tough fighter though, and managed to roll to the side. He took cover behind a rusted shipping crate just as two more batarangs missed him by a hair's breath.

Sionis peered around the corner, but little metal pellets were rolling all around him on the floor. Smoke bombs. He choked violently as they exploded, obscuring the area.

"Can't hide forever! Riddler will have that signal jammer hacked in…"

"About two minutes," the green-clad villain answered.

"Good," Mask wheezed. "When you do, activate the bombs remotely."

Riddler grinned. "My pleasure, Roman. It was an honor working with you to destroy the Bat!" he said, saluting in a somewhat goofy manner. "Your proclivity to serve as the sacrificial lamb has been…most indispensable."

Mask was completely ignoring Nygma. "Hear that? We'll be dead soon, you and I, entombed together in this concrete grave! A fitting end, if it means vengeance."

"You're insane, Roman. Drop your weapon and surrender. We can both escape in time."

Mask shook his head, even though his nemesis couldn't see it. "Maybe, but it's too late for that. We're in the center of the building. You're not going anywhere injured, and I intend to make sure that you can't get out. This is fate!"

With that, Mask charged around the corner and right into the smoke cloud. Batman's keen sense of hearing allowed him to track the man's movement. He was going for the syringe.

Just as Sionis reached the box, a claw-like device with a cable attached to it grabbed hold and tried to jerk it away from him. He yanked on the cable with all his might. On the other end, Batman also pulled as hard as he could with his injured shoulder. Mask would've won the contest, if not for the fact that Batman was assisted by the mechanics of the Batclaw and by his suit. The device dragged the box with Mask hanging off of it across the floor.

Sionis reached into a suit pocket and produced a vial of acid. He poured it on the cable, which snapped like a piece of string. The box and he tumbled chaotically, the syringe rolling far away from him.

"No!" he growled, crawling after it. He was forced to retreat by a flashbang. Blinded, deafened, confused, and frustrated, Mask ducked behind another crate. He drew a knife from a concealed sheath, brandishing it with the hand that did not hold his gun.

"You're going to run out of gadgets, and I'll run out of bullets. It's time for a melee!" Mask declared, sneaking the opposite way. He thought a roundabout, circuitous route that avoided the well-lit middle might see him to the syringe.

"Whatever you say," Batman taunted, smashing into the criminal with an aerial kick. He released the cable with one hand, landing from his swinging arc gracefully.

Mask banged painfully into a row of factory equipment, but managed to hold on to his weapons. He popped a shot at Batman, but it was another miss. His arm had been slapped away. He stabbed with knife instead, only to discover the same thing happening, so he did the only thing he could; kick out at Batman. Weakened by blood loss, Batman could not counter it. He stumbled back again, the encounter a draw.

The brawl continued in that fashion. It was a frantic tangle of limbs and slugging blows back and forth. Just when one got an advantage over the other, something reset the exchange. Batman was plagued by blood loss, while Mask was outclassed martially to begin with. The playing field was even.

Mask finally got the gun pressed into Batman's temple. He pulled the trigger. Nothing happened; all his bullets were expended already. He slashed with the knife, but it was disarmed. He was beaten. Batman flipped the man over his shoulder, who came crashing down in a bruised heap.

Unfortunately, that had been a poor choice on Batman's part. Mask was closer to the syringe. He grunted, crawling feebly towards the drug. His opponent stumbled after him.

"No! It can't end like this! I have to win!" Sionis said, taking the syringe in his hands just as Batman tackled him. The pair rolled awkwardly, wrestling for dominance of the sedative injection.

Batman's muscles burned, pushed to their limit. Batman ignored limits. The protesting of his body, no matter how beaten, was meaningless.

The tip of the syringe was nearing Mask's body. "Blow it! Blow it, Nygma!" he began shouting.

"I can't. The girl, Oracle, she's blocking me. But not for long. I have Jervis."

Mask didn't hear him. Batman forced the needle into his veins and pushed the stopper. Within moments, he was completely still. Batman stood on shaky legs.

"Nygma…" he choked, glancing at the screen, "I'm coming for you next. Believe me."

"Oh I believe it, o' Foolish Knight of Gotham. That's why I'm going to blow this building! Tell me, what's black and blue, and orange all over?" He glanced up from his keyboard. Batman was gone. "Er…Batman? It's you in a few minutes, you humorless killjoy!" Riddler chuckled nervously, then looked over his shoulder.

He had a feeling he'd be doing a lot of that for the rest of his life.

* * *

"Are you sure this is the place?" Diana asked, approaching the ramshackle building.

"If my trace on Bane's communicator was correct, then yes," Damian answered.

Both of them were caked with dried blood and spoke through damaged throats. That wasn't important, though. What was important was that Bruce needed them.

"Look!" Diana rasped, pointing at the front entrance. It was a long hallway.

Damian's head followed her gaze. There, about halfway down the hallway, was a bloody, battered, but very much alive Batman.

Just then, a wave of force bowed all three of them. The structure above Batman began to crumble, flames roaring up the hallway to consume him.

"No!" both the woman and the boy gasped at the same time.

"He's too far!" Damian said.

That was irrelevant to Diana. She sprinted towards him. It became obvious in the next few seconds, though, that she couldn't make it in time. Her love was dying right before her eyes.

It was as if something snapped inside of her. No, not snapped, exactly. Rather, it was more like a broken piece repaired itself in a beautiful instant. She felt divine power flowing through her veins once more.

The next thing Diana knew, a supersonic burst crackled through the air and she was right next to her love. The wall of fire was mere yards away. Without stopping to question this turn of events, she hefted Bruce over her shoulder.

"NO!" he moaned. She could not fathom why he said that, but then again, her higher faculties weren't exactly functioning at that precise moment. All she knew was she had to get both of them out. But how?

Flames engulfed the couple. She did not feel them.

There was another supersonic burst.

* * *

Batman did his best to stumble out of the building. He soldiered on, despite the overwhelming feeling of weariness that told him that he should just lay down and die. A blood trail dripped behind him as he went. He knew that the odds of surviving this were low, but he defied the odds on a regular basis.

He refused to die. It was as simple as that. He couldn't die, for the sake of Damian and Diana. They needed him. Gotham needed him. It would be an insult to let himself be incinerated in the explosion when he had risked so much just to alleviate this very possibility.

With legendary willpower, Batman made his body move. Made it run, even. His heart pounded, forcing more blood out of his torn arteries. The cost was insignificant, as long as he survived. Survived to tell his two loved ones that he was sorry for creating this mess, for almost bringing them to ruin.

He was in the final hallway, which stretched to the outside. The door was off its hinges, so he could see into the night. Although his vision was blurry, it looked like two blurs were there. One silver, the other a smaller mix of red, green, gold, and black.

There was a roar. The bombs were detonating. There was no more time. Fire billowed behind him as a thunder wave forced him to his knees. The building cracked all around him, preparing to collapse.

The silver blur was right next to him, now. It enveloped him.

They were both in the fiery blast.

"NO!" he moaned.

The last thing he felt was charring heat.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: *Breathes deeply* It's good to be back...**

 **Sorry about the long update in between the first and second two parts of that three-parter. Hopefully I'm winning you back by updating sooner this time. I promise I'll try to write more.**

Bruce's eyelids fluttered, consciousness returning to him in a painfully staggered delay over the course of several minutes. At first, everything was fuzzy. He didn't know where he was or why he was so groggy. In fact, the only thing he knew for sure was that there was an agonizing ache searing in the meat of his left shoulder. It was a familiar ache; that of a serious gunshot wound. He had suffered enough of those the be an expert on the sensation, after all.

Well, that explained the grogginess (sedatives, he concluded), the fact that he felt an IV in his arm, and the feeling of a cool metal gurney on his back. However, the context surrounding the wound eluded him for a time. His brain lazily meandered through a labyrinth of half-remembered, blurry memories from the past week or so. Vivid as they were, they appeared in a jumbled, out-of-order sequence.

Eventually, the memory that he was searching for hit him like a jolt. It had been Black Mask that shot him! The rest of the evening's events flooded back like an echo of the first realization; the warehouse, Mask's foiled revenge plot, the explosion…

The explosion! He practically screamed inside his mind out of pure shock. It was the last thing he remembered, aside from an upwelling of panic attached to that event. He strained to recall the reason for it. Someone had tried to rescue him. No, not tried: succeeded, as his continued heartbeat testified. But who were they, and what had happened to…

"DIANA!" Bruce shouted, jerking into an upright sitting position on the medical table. His senses reeled from the activity that he was not prepared for. He lolled dizzily, vision spinning. Despite that, he could perceive enough of his surroundings to know that he was in the medical section of the Batcave. He wheeled his head around in a blind panic, scanning the rest of the miniature hospital for any indication of her whereabouts or status. What he saw horrified him.

One of the gurneys on his left was utterly caked with a congealed mess of dried blood. Uncleaned surgical tools and soiled cloth littered it as well. Based on the volume, he easily estimated that such blood loss would be lethal. His heart began to palpitate wildly, the monitor next to his bed mirroring with rapid beeps.

"Master Bruce, calm…" Alfred began, running over to Bruce from the chair in front of the Batcomputer.

Bruce wasn't even listening. "Where is she?!" He half-yelled, half-slurred. The answer to that question was his only concern at the moment.

"Sir, you'll tear your stitches," Alfred responded. He reached the table, putting a hand on Bruce to gently force him back down.

Even weakened and dazed, Bruce was strong enough to resist the old butler. He slapped away Alfred's hand. His voice dropped to the low pitch he used to interrogate criminals. "Where. Is. She!?" he growled, staring daggers at him. It wasn't a request for information. It was a command.

Alfred paused and leaned back, but was undaunted. It was impossible for the butler to be intimidated by Bruce when he had basically raised him from birth. Still, he knew it was within his best interest to answer truthfully. If he didn't placate the raging, protective man, he knew that he would just get up and just start looking for Diana himself. That was certainly something to be avoided at all costs, given Bruce's condition.

He looked his employer straight in the eye. "Mistress Diana is in a perfect state of health. She is absolutely fine, that I promise, so you can put your worries to rest. In fact, she even went in to work today. For you, I might add."

"Are you sure?" Bruce asked. "I don't see how…"

"If there is one thing you can be absolutely sure of in this world, Master Bruce," Alfred said, "it's that I would never lie to you. Especially not when it concerns her. I'm one-hundred percent sure on this matter, or else I wouldn't have told you."

If it was possible to look both incredibly relieved and utterly confused at the same time, that was how Bruce looked at that moment. However, he implicitly trusted the man who had raised him, who had never given him a reason to doubt, and had kept his dark secrets despite his personal reservations.

Bruce sighed a deep sigh of relief. "That's wonderful news," he said, smiling blissfully. "But...how? I mean, there is no way that she could have gotten me out of that explosion in time," he said, face changing to a frown of puzzlement. It was a true statement, at least from his analytical detective's point of view.

Alfred smiled. "I'll tell you everything, sir, provided you lay back down right this instant."

Bruce complied. The action hurt his sides. Come to think of it, he hurt everywhere now that the adrenaline pumping in his veins was receding. He could even feel patches of slight burns all over his body.

Alfred began checking Bruce over to make certain that he was not bleeding again. As he worked, he told Bruce everything.

"The blood on the table there is yours, not Miss Diana's."

"Then how am I alive?" Bruce inquired.

"Blood transfusion," Alfred explained. "I still remember how to patch a gunshot wound. Your son and female companion were competent helpers as well, but I called Dr. Leslie anyway. I'll spare you the details, but for a moment there it was extremely sketchy. We expected you to be out for much longer, to be honest. I'm surprised by now that I haven't learned to compensate for that trademark Wayne stubbornness."

"Alright," Bruce said, "but I still don't understand how she pulled me out of there. She was at least thirty yards away and the explosion was moments behind me. Even at her top non-powered sprinting speed…"

"That's why she didn't run," Alfred said.

"Stop playing games. What other explanation is there?"

"Forgive me for my insolence; but you are the world's greatest detective, so I'm sure you can figure it out."

Bruce stroked his chin. Was he really implying that Diana got her powers back, somehow? It seemed to be only reasonable explanation (insofar as anything that happened in his bizarre life could be considered reasonable at this point. It was all relative, he supposed). Moreover, it answered the question of how she had been able to lift his approximately 250 pounds of muscle by herself, as well as her method of preventing injury from the heat blast.

"Is it true? Does she have her powers back?" Bruce asked, hopeful. If so, such a turn of events might indicate that her mother was intent on repairing their relationship, as well as lift her melancholy as of late.

Alfred smiled wryly. It was plain that he shared Bruce's sentiments. "Sadly, no, sir. The reversal does not appear to be permanent; but rather, a temporary occurrence. I'm afraid I can't offer any further explanation. According to the testimony of your son, she simply flew over to you in a blur and re-appeared at his side with your unconscious body. From there, Damian summoned the Batwing and piloted the three of you back here. I suggest you speak to them personally. I can only be of so much assistance, considering that I was not present myself."

Bruce sighed, disappointed. "Any idea how that could be?" he asked.

"I'm afraid that I am not versed in Greek mysticism. That said, the Princess had a theory of her own that she was extremely eager to speak to you about."

"Speaking of Damian, where is he?" Bruce asked, concerned, but decidedly less so since he hadn't seen his son leap into a spray of deadly fire moments before passing out.

"Attending school," the butler answered. "A bit unwillingly as well, I might add…" he remarked under his breath.

That brought a smile to Bruce's face despite himself. The boy had insisted on having a public face instead of merely moonlighting as Robin. Now he was paying the cost of being a legally registered citizen as a twelve-year old boy: going to school.

As far as Bruce could tell, the experience was pure misery for him. Damian had wanted to take college classes, and considering his incredible aptitude for math and all types of science, such a request was not entirely unreasonable. Bruce had been leery of such an arrangement, though, due to the unwanted attention that both Bruce Wayne and Batman would receive if his biological son who had appeared out of nowhere around the same time as Robin was revealed to be a genius for his age.

Still, they had worked out a compromise. Convinced by his incredible placement scores, as well as by an anonymous donation, the Gotham School Board had agreed to place Damian in high school instead of junior.

The source of Damian's frustration had to do with multiple factors. For one, it was an extreme culture shock. The frivolity of high school life was maddening to someone who had been raised to live a stoic life of killing by a cabal of assassins bent on world domination. He had extreme trouble socializing and relating to his peers to a degree where the school counselors were questioning if he suffered from a personality disorder or traumatic past. Perhaps both were possibly true. In any case, age was a factor in that as well, but it was a lesser price to pay. In some respects, the boy was more far mature. In others, much less. Bruce hoped the experience would even him out a bit.

Secondly, there was the disparity of his grades between subjects. Math and science were still pure tedium for him at this level, while all other subjects eluded him to even a basic degree. This included topics like literature or the arts. Simply put, he could not process abstract thoughts or express himself very well. Damian desperately needed a more humanitarian education, Bruce realized.

Jerking back to reality, Bruce peered up at Alfred. "How long have I been out?" It had been Monday morning when he had confronted Mask.

"3:48 P.M on a fine Monday afternoon, sir." Alfred said, glancing at his wristwatch. "In fact, both of the aforementioned parties should be returning in several hours. Until then, I strongly advise you to rest, sir."

"Thanks, Alfred. I might just take your advice for once."

The butler sighed. "No thanks are necessary, and I certainly hope so. In fact, I believe that I would owe you a debt of gratitude for sparing my blood pressure by keeping that promise."

Bruce chuckled quietly, then sunk more deeply into the bed. He was still incredibly weary, and so did nothing for the moment but stare up at the cave ceiling, mulling some thoughts over in his head. The events of earlier that morning played over and over again in his mind. He scrutinized every little detail with his critical detective's eye.

By the time that his eyelids were starting to feel heavy again, Bruce had come to a startling conclusion. A major adjustment desperately needed to be made. However, he did not relish having to enact it. Still, it needed to be done, regardless of the fallout that might occur.

With that last anxious thought, Bruce settled into the embrace of an uneasy sleep.

* * *

He awoke to an embrace of an altogether different kind. A soft, feminine hand was loosely placed in one of his own, while another fiddled lovingly with his short-cropped hair. He felt soft sheets all around him, fluffy pillows and a mattress below.

Bruce recognized the touch instinctually. He turned his head to the side and was not surprised by what he saw. In the dim light of the master bedroom, it seemed as if a specter of an angel with piercing blue eyes was perched on her side there next to him.

"You're awake," she said, smiling.

Bruce couldn't help but smile back; it was infectious. Besides, his countenance had been adjusting to the foreign expression lately, courtesy of her influence. His muscles barely ached anymore when the corners of his lips upturned.

"I'm not entirely convinced this is real," Bruce answered after a short delay of getting lost in the sea of those eyes.

Diana frowned. "What do you mean?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"I must be dreaming, because there is clearly an angel in my bed," he replied, stone-cold serious.

A pause. Then, she burst out in a chuckle "Oh, hush. That was terribly…cheesy, I believe is the expression."

He feigned indignation.

"But that *was* sweet," she corrected, then leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you," she whispered breathlessly into his ear.

"Any time, Princess," he said, pulling her closer. She complied readily, curling up against his side and pressing her face into the crook of his neck as she was wont to do.

They stayed like that for a while, enjoying the feeling of closeness and the sensation of the other's skin against their own. It was somewhat limited, considering that she was still wearing her work clothes and he had nothing on but his underwear. That would change very quickly if he had his way.

"Just get back?" he whispered.

"Mhm..." she whispered back.

"It's 11:12," he said, looking at a clock on the bedside table.

"Late night. That Lexcorp thing…" she yawned sleepily. "Thanks for putting me in charge of that by the way."

"You're the right woman for the job," he answered. She rewarded him with another kiss. "But that's enough business talk for now. I just want to…I mean I'm so…" he trailed off.

"What?" she asked, concerned, looking up at him.

Bruce sighed and ran his fingers through her luxurious locks that somehow never tangled. "I just want to enjoy this while it lasts."

She looked scared. It was an expression that did not befit her persona, but he didn't judge. "Why do you say that? Thinking of leaving me?"

"No, Princess. Never," he said, running a thumb across her cheek gently. He could feel her heart rate pick up. Blood rushed to her face, making her appear flushed.

"Then what?" she asked. Realization hit her a moment later. "Bane," she said simply. "The explosion. We both almost lost each other."

He tried to open his mouth to respond but couldn't.

"Bruce…" she crooned, nuzzling against him and planting kisses on his neck. "I know how hard it must be for you to come to terms with idea of losing someone you care about again, but it's something we must accept. Surely you can see that."

He didn't answer. Although she was right, and the thought of losing her terrified him, he had already accepted that reality. If he hadn't, their teary confrontation in the cave about a month ago would have been their last meeting. No, it was a different fear that gnawed at him. It was one that he could never accept, nor be persuaded to ignore.

Sensing that something deeper was going on, Diana propped herself up so that she could look down on him. "What happened in that warehouse?" He should not have been surprised. Even a lie of omission could not slip past her undetected. She was an arbiter of truth, after all, even without the lasso or uniform.

"Tell me," she asked sternly.

He knew that he could not escape. However, there was a chance that he could misdirect her inquisition, let her think that she had solved the mystery.

And so he told her of the events that had occurred inside that building that night. Mask, Hatter, the mind-altering frequency, the com system being hacked, everything.

"And so I did the only thing I could," Bruce began. "I gambled with your lives. Yours and his. You have to understand; it was the only way." It was true, that sin troubled him. It was not the true source of his melancholy, though. He had calculated the success of the strategy beforehand. He was not sorry, just as he would refuse to be sorry for developing a contingency plan against the League if any of them discovered it.

Diana reacted in a way that was completely unexpected. She straddled his hips and leaned over him so that they were face-to-face. Her hair cascaded down like black curtains that partitioned the couple from the rest of the world. In that moment, it was as if only the two of them existed.

"Look at me, Bruce." Her tone was gentle, but commanding. At first he did not want to look, shame at misdirecting her consuming him. He complied anyway, gazing up into her soft, beautiful face that was set in a serious pose. "It's okay, Bruce. I understand, and I forgive you." She crushed their lips together, biting and sucking.

When the kiss was over, she came up for air and continued. "I can't imagine what it must have been like to make that decision. I'm so sorry you had to suffer that torment, but you're right, it was the correct choice. After all, it worked. You saved me and Damian. And for that, I'll be eternally grateful."

"I knew you would understand," he said, cupping her face.

"Now there's something I need to tell you," she said joyfully.

He merely raised a questioning eyebrow.

"You might be wondering how I pulled you out of the fire, and without either of us burning alive as well."

Bruce nodded. "Alfred told me that Damian said you flew at subsonic speed, but that your powers haven't otherwise fully returned. He also mentioned you had a theory."

She nodded eagerly. "Yes, I do. Do you know where my powers come from originally?"

"When we first met and began forming the League, you told me. I remember it vividly. I had to transcribe it from ancient Greek to English so that I could inform the rest of the group, after all. You hadn't learned English yet."

Diana chuckled. "Yes. Our first meeting was very strange, wasn't it? In fact, that whole time was a bizarre one for me. I had to learn a whole new language in less than a week, and from a man, no less!"

"You said 'My powers come from the Olympian goddesses, who have bestowed me with their blessings so that I might serve as their champion'," Bruce went on.

She nodded. "Correct. But I suppose I never gave you, or the League, the full story, did I?"

"No, you didn't. It was a minor detail, especially among a group awash with fantastic powers and barely believable backstories." He shrugged.

"Correct again. But now, I think that it is time for you to hear the full story."

Bruce dragged himself into a sitting position with her assistance so that they could talk more comfortably. "I'm all ears."

"Long ago, the gods and goddesses decided that they would stop interfering directly with the mortal world," Diana started. "Doing so had only brought ruin and chaos upon the land, mostly as result of the actions of the male deities; Zeus, Ares, and their ilk. The way that our eldest priests tell the story, there was coup of sorts. Hera, Hestia, Athena, Demeter, and Aphrodite took the reins. They are now what we refer to as 'the Five'. With their newfound authority, they desired to right the wrongs done to women in the ancient times, and so created a special island, cut off from the rest of the world, where the reincarnated souls of women who had been murdered or hurt by men could exist in paradise for all time."

"Themiscyra," Bruce said.

"Right again," Diana answered. "It is their…magic…that gives us eternal life and allows Themiscrya to exist. In return, we worship them and obey their wisdom. But things are not always so perfect and peaceful. There are times when we needed to fight, when our island was threatened by mystical forces and Titanspawn. As such, we needed a champion; someone to serve as our anointed protector, hero, and emissary to man's world when needed.

"Thus, a pact was made: one individual whom both we and the Five could agree upon would be bestowed with a portion of their powers and abilities to serve as not only our champion, but theirs as well; a conduit between worlds invested with both divine and mortal authority. In theory, this practice would allow the five to watch over us and ensure our protection while also checking their own influence in affairs of mortals.

"For a time, Hippolyta was the anointed Champion." Bruce took careful note of her avoidance of the word 'mother'. It was telling. "It was for her that Hephaestus created the armor (though he resented Hera deeply for making him do it after she had rejected him at birth) and to her that Hestia gifted the golden cord of truth. She was a natural choice; after all, she was already duty bound to watch over the gateway to the underworld so that Hades might remain imprisoned forever."

"Didn't they blame her for what happened with Hades?" Bruce asked.

Diana shook her head. "No. Well, not the Five, at least. They laid all the blame at Hades' feat for corrupting her with his devious male influence. When they seized power, they forgave her instead of holding her responsible for her own actions and choices."

Bruce chucked. "That seems incredibly ironic; infantilizing women by tacitly saying that they are powerless against male authority. Aren't your goddesses supposed to be ultra-feminists or something?"

Diana smiled wryly. There was no mirth in it. "That's what they claim, at least. Embarrassingly enough, there was a time in which I actually believed it. But alas, their ideology appears to exist in name only and not practice. I realize that now, in no small thanks to the Justice League, your world, and *you*, Bruce."

"Then it's not surprising that…Hippolyta…would insinuate coercion and corruption on my part against you," he said. Diana nodded in response. "She's taking out her insecurities on our relationship, isn't she? She's doing to you what the Five did to her. Only you're not her, and I'm not Hades."

Diana looked away. He saw a tear roll down her cheek. "They're not my goddesses anymore. Well, except one. I want no part of it…not the island, not *her*," (she spat the last word with vitriol). "None of it," she whispered sadly.

He could well imagine what she was feeling right then. To live among a culture like that for thousands of years…only to have the sleek venure ripped away over the course of a mere two years, revealing the ugly truth underneath. Then, to be not only exiled, but to have her identity stripped away from her for doing nothing other than loving someone of the wrong gender. Someone her so-called sisters had literally tried to kill for "defiling" their princess and champion. As nostalgic as she clearly was for those simpler times in which "misandry" hadn't been part of her lexicon, Bruce could tell that it disgusted her knowing that the man she loved was excluded from her home. Not wanted, not respected, but merely seen as a monster. And the fact that her own mother, the person who was supposed to care for her, love her, and have her best interests at heart, was the one leading the charge…that was the bitter icing on the poisonous cake.

"I'm so sorry…" he said, swiping away the tears with a thumb. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

She turned back to him. "You're so sweet sometimes that it kills me, Bruce. Really. I want you to know that," she said, smiling at him and rubbing his chest. "And don't worry, it's okay. It needed to be said, to be aired out in the open." She took a deep breath, collecting herself. "I needed to get it off my chest."

"Take your time," he said. "I'm sweet to you because I care."

"Shut up, Bruce, or you'll make me cry for a different reason," she said jovially.

Bruce decided to change subject. "When you were denouncing your gods, you said 'except one'. Care to explain?"

Another nod. "Yes, I'll get to that. But first, the rest of the story. I promise it's nearing the end.

"Getting back on track…when my mother prayed to Hera to bring the clay sculpture that I used to be to life, the goddesses did not realize that Hades had helped her make it. They quickly learned of this, however, when I began to display strange powers such as enhanced strength and stamina. At first, this troubled my people greatly. Eventually, they accepted me as one of their own when they realized that I appeared to not possess my father's malice and evil nature. At that point, it was deemed a wise choice to pass to role of champion down to me. As the only living demigod, it seemed right for a being of both worlds to represent the will of those worlds, as well as for the position to pass down from mother to daughter."

Bruce was not surprised. Diana had already confessed her lineage to him. It did not trouble him in the slightest. "Go on."

"I was given even more divine power. However, that power only exists as long as I have the consent of the amazons, represented by their Queen, and the respect of the goddesses themselves. As high priestess, Hippolyta can beseech them to retract their blessings. Since her reasoning for doing so was based on my decision to violate Amazonian culture and law, and she herself embodies the ideals the goddesses have dictated, her request was granted. I did not abandon them…"

"…they abandoned you," Bruce finished for her. "I'm so sorry."

"Save your apologies," she said, holding up her palm. "It's not your fault."

"I doubt Hera sees it that way. They must vilify me."

Diana laughed despite the grim conversation. "Only you could steal the heart of a princess, make enemies of gods, and be unapologetic through it all, Bruce."

He couldn't help but see the humor in the observation. One thing burned on his mind though. "If they rejected you and revoked your demigod status, why were you able to fly and save me?"

Diana leaned in close. "You're the world's greatest detective. I'm sure you can figure it out. Why would one of them give my powers back only in that specific instant to accomplish that specific task?"

There was only one explanation Bruce could think of. "Aphrodite."

The name echoed through the silent room like a proclamation. It hung in the air for several long moments as the ramifications of what Bruce had just said sunk into him. If he didn't know better, he would even say that it felt as if, for a brief instant, there had been another presence in the room, invisibility looking down on the couple from above.

"That's right," Diana whispered almost reverently. "Don't you see what this means? She approves. There's hope." She was joyous.

"That's wonderful news," Bruce said with a smile. He really meant it. While he personally didn't believe in these gods (insofar as they were actually gods, at least. To his perception, they were more likely extremely advanced metahumans or mystically-ascended beings like Darkseid or All-Father), he could easily measure how important this was to her. She desperately craved a connection to her past that she didn't have to abandon entirely. The goddess of love's approval certainly sufficed in that category.

She frowned, suddenly somber. "I'm sorry. It must be incredibly frustrating and complicated being with me. A whole race of people and their goddesses wanting you dead…that's a lot of baggage."

Bruce merely raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you realize to whom you're speaking? I'm the king of baggage."

Diana giggled. "Then I suppose that I'm the Queen of baggage. Gods, what a strange couple we make."

Bruce peered at her seriously. "You've sacrificed so much for me, been understanding and patient the whole way, even abandoned your people. The least I could do is make the same sacrifice. I don't care who I have to defy to be with you. I love you, Diana."

Velvet lips shot towards his in blind passion, but he expected that. Bruce met her kiss halfway, fighting playfully for dominance. By the time their dance of tongues and mouths was done, both of them were panting desperately, lips puffy and red.

She ground her hips into his desperately, already stripping off her top and bra. Mesmerized by the sight of her bare breasts and stomach, he found that he could not speak reasonably at first.

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" he asked, nudging a chin at his left shoulder without tearing his eyes away from her glorious body. "Alfred said I needed bedrest, and…"

"Shhh. All you being injured means is that you can't crawl away from me," Diana said, mock holding him down just for emphasis.

"As if I'd want to…" he muttered.

"Shush, mortal. It is time for you to please me," she said, trying very hard to keep the playfulness out of her voice and sound as commanding as possible.

"If you insist, princess," he said, playing along as he cast the bedsheets out of the way. She ripped off his boxers, causing his member that she thought was so impressive to spring free. Then she hiked up her skirt and brought their pelvises together immediately, rubbing her core against his length. Both of their breaths hitched, groaning with the intimate contact that was merely a hint of what was to come.

There was just one problem though: a barrier a fabric obstructing the way.

"Finally wearing panties, Princess?" he teased.

She disengaged herself and desperately ripped at the incredibly frustrating garment. Eventually, it came off. She flung it across the room in disgust, saying "I don't understand why modern women wear these things. They're practically pelvic prisons."

Her distaste for underwear was well-known to him. What he did not know, and what she seemed to suggest, flabbergasted him: that Amazons didn't wear panties of any kind. It was hardly surprising. If one lived on an island of all women, one would tend to be much freer with her body.

He tried to push these thoughts out of his mind. It wasn't hard, concerning what Diana did next. She positioned herself over him, her lower lips teasing his second head. God, she was so wet and soft, and that was just the beginning. All he could think about was sampling the rest of her.

He didn't have to wait long, as she let herself be impaled by his length in one swift plunge.

"Goddess," she breathed, part panting, part wincing. It was definitely starting to hurt less and feel good quicker. Her heart was racing a mile a minute. "Your cock keeps feeling better and better each time," she moaned. "It feels so fucking good."

Hearing that kind of language come out of such a regal woman was astonishing to him, but also incredibly arousing. Bruce wondered what else he could make her say. He reached up and began to stroke her nipples and squeeze her breasts. This elicited a whimper of pleasure almost immediately.

"Good little man," she teased breathlessly, trying to sound authoritative. It came out more like a whimper.

"Little?" he asked quizzically. "If that's so, perhaps I had better withdraw," he went on, putting one hand on her rear so that he had enough leverage to pretend to pull out.

"No! Not little," she quickly corrected. "You're big. Gods, you're big. I love it." Diana began to gyrate her hips on him, finding the spot she most needed his long, hard length to stimulate. Once she found it, she began to press him deeper into that spot, moaning.

"Bruce," she said, looking straight in his eyes as she raked her nails across his chest. "You make me feel like…like a…a *woman*, as never before. It's amazing." She squeezed her PC muscles, causing her folds to tighten around his length. It was his turn to moan.

Diana went a step further and began to slowly bounce up and down on him. They both became utterly lost in the pleasure for many long moments.

"I can hardly look at you anymore without thinking about…oh goddess…doing this," she confessed between quivers of pleasure.

"Now you know how I always felt," Bruce said.

She gave him that look...that one what was just so…Diana, where she bit her lower lip just slightly and peered at him from under her top eyelids. "Really?" she asked, voice husky. "Tell me your fantasies."

Bruce grinned, then leaned in to whisper into her ear.

"We're doing that someday," she panted. What he told her had clearly excited her lust. She rode him more urgently. "Fuck…" she moaned.

Bruce began to detect a pattern to her movements. She was using his cock like toy, experimenting with it to find all her most sensitive spots of joy and ride them until she came. He decided to help her along with that goal. He adjusted his angle of penetration and began to thrust upward in time with the rhythm of her furious riding.

A tremor of delight ran through her. She began to take deeper and deeper breaths with each thrust. It was like a plea, egging him on to please her more and more. Eventually, she started moaning his name between those exhales like a holy incantation. From there her passion evolved to whimpering, begging, and cursing (both in English and the Themiscryan dialect of ancient Greek). Her body went slack, arms that gripped him loosening from their death grip. Diana was close, Bruce could tell. Truly, there was no sight or sound on the earth that Bruce loved more than hearing her moan his name as she succumbed to an orgasm. His heart beat so fast that he thought it might explode out of his chest, stomach so full of butterflies he thought he might be sick.

It all jolted to halt. She collapsed into his embrace and stopped riding.

Bruce, panicked, was somehow able to ask "What's wrong?" he cupped her cheek.

"I can't…" Diana tried to say. "It's too intense. I can't do it. I need to you to make me… make me cum," she begged.

"As you wish, Princess," he said, complying. Bruce gripped each cheek of her ass in one of his hands, then began to forcefully pound upwards into her, exploiting her favored angle that she had previously revealed to him. Wet slapping sounds filled the air, followed by Diana's loud moans. She wrapped her hands around his neck, biting and kissing his ear and neck to show her gratitude.

It wasn't long until Diana was teetering on the edge. Amid her incoherent babbling, he heard her say "Touch it. Pleeeeasssee…"

Bruce knew what she wanted, and briefly considered teasing her. He decided against it. More than anything, he just wanted to make Diana cum as hard as possible, and this was the best way he had found so far. His motives were somewhat selfish though; there was nothing he liked feeling more than Diana's tunnel contracting insistently around him.

And so he did what she wanted and rubbed her engorged clit with his thumb.

Diana exploded into a shivering pool of sensation, her brain and nervous system shorting itself out on pleasure. Fireworks exploded pleasantly behind her eyes and pulses of satisfaction rocked her body, shutting everything down. Her face hit the pillow beside Bruce's head. She didn't know where or who she was. The only thing that existed was the pleasure. It was almost painful in its intensity. Almost.

At first, Bruce there for Diana; stroking the back of her neck and whispering sweet things into her ear, unsure and uncaring if she actually heard them or not. However, it quickly became apparent that she was having multiple orgasms. Distinct waves shuddered through her, causing her to grip his member tighter and tighter with each pulse of joy. Eventually, he could hold on no longer, and fell beneath the waves himself.

Minutes rolled by as the couple recovered from the sensory overload. Bruce recovered first. Clearly, the experience had belonged to Diana more than it did to him. The female superior position tended to do that, provided one knew what one was doing.

 _You clever girl,_ he thought to himself, _you've been researching sexual anatomy, haven't you? Probably read the_ Kama Sutra _as well._ Truly, the thought of Wonder Woman sitting at her computer reading about sexual positions was an incongruent image. He was glad that he was the one special enough to bring that lust out of her.

"Diana?" he asked, remembering what was going on. She was still face down in the pillows. "Are you okay?" She looked ready to pass out.

With lids still fluttering, she attacked him in a frenzy of kisses. It was the only way that she could think of to communicate the love and trust that she felt at that moment for this man. The words were just too hard for her pleasure-wracked brain. Physical communication was easier.

As the couple passionately kissed, a roar of thunder boomed in the distance. Then, several moments later, another roar answered it; this one, approximately four times louder.

Neither Bruce nor Diana noticed, or would have even cared if they had. They were far too busy becoming lost in one another, making love deep into the night to notice the storm that settled over Gotham, as if the sky was going to war with itself.

 **Author's Note: Phew...steam, plot, explanations, foreshadowing...I'm exhausted.**

 **Just wanted to clarify something. I know that the origin story I gave is not exactly like the one in the cartoon. More specifically, it's based of that mythology but has more added to it. After all, we don't see a lot of the amazons in that show and don't know much about the goddesses outside of that brief story Diana tells in "Paradise Lost". In fact, all we see is her putting on the armor and start flying around. I decided to fill in the gaps with my own imagination of what made sense to get things to that point. She was already their champion, but became Wonder Woman by putting the costume on (which is more for going outside the island rather than as the champion's actual garments). This theory would appear to be confirmed by the 2009 Keri Russell film. *shrug***

 **So yeah, this story is going somewhere big. Stay tuned for more of the saga. I could easily see this going thirty chapters. Which is crazy, I originally wrote it as a one-shot with only that first chapter in mind.**


	17. Chapter 17

"…and in other news, one of abandoned factories formerly owned by Roman Sionis, otherwise known as the criminal mastermind 'Black Mask', was completely destroyed by a mysterious explosion early this morning," the newscaster said, his voice emanating from the hotel room's flat screen T.V.

Queen Hippolyta, who just happened to be emerging from the shower, swiveled her head in the direction of the screen. From her in-depth research on the Batman, she had learned that this 'Black Mask' character was well known as one of his enemies, and a villain of Gotham City to boot. Therefore, she reasoned, there may be something important to learn from paying attention to this news story.

The towel-wrapped Queen snatched the TV's remote control from the bedside table, interest piqued. After a few moments of frustrated searching, she eventually found the volume buttons. The volume of the newscaster's voice increased several fold, allowing Hippolyta to hear more clearly.

"Police are still investigating the cause of the explosion, as well as trying to determine the identities of several deceased found in the ruins of the structure. When questioned about these events, Police Commissioner Gordon simply stated that there were no details that he could share with the press at this time. For now, we will simply have to be content with the knowledge that Gotham's finest are on the case."

Perhaps Batman had perished in the catastrophe. Wishful thinking, Hippolyta realized. From what she had seen of him, the man was far too skilled and crafty to be defeated by something as crude as a bomb. More likely, the destruction had occurred as result of one of his deadly battles with criminal scum.

As disgusted as she was about wishing such disaster upon the man, Hippolyta was internally conflicted about the matter. It seemed an obvious deduction that Diana could only be better off without his influence, no matter how virtuous Batman appeared to be in his quest against crime, nor how greatly Diana adored him. Men and amazons just weren't meant to mix.

With a sigh, Hippolyta hoped that she wouldn't be forced to kill him (or have him killed on her behalf). Part of her intention in coming to Gotham had been to find a way to undermine their relationship or convince Diana to leave him of her own volition. Still, she wouldn't hesitate to avenge her daughter's purity if given the opportunity. As much as she wished diplomacy were an option, it seemed that it was the Amazon's eternal curse to be forced to employ war and violence.

The news program interrupted her deep thinking, and she desperately scrambled to catch up.

"…unsure of the motive of the break-in at Wayne Enterprises. According to the official police report, nothing appears to be stolen or damaged. An ongoing investigation is looking into the nature of this attack, as well as any possible connection to the explosion. Again, there are few details to be had at this time."

Hippolyta scoffed. If her suspicions were correct and Bruce Wayne was indeed Batman, then he was woefully inept at protecting his own property. If one of the world's greatest warriors and richest men could not prevent a clumsy break in at his own sanctum, she reasoned, then it was inconceivable that he could properly protect Diana from such horrors of man's world. Hearing about this event only served to incense her conviction that Diana belonged back on the island for her own good. Hopefully, she could petition the council to override her previous order and rescind the banishment. Then, perhaps if Diana changed her tune and became worthy of the title of champion once more, she could be permitted to return (in a purely ambassadorial sense, of course).

It was an enormous "perhaps".

The TV screen panned over to another newscaster, this one female. "But take heart, Gotham citizens," the gorgeous, but dignified, woman began. Hippolyta noticed that her name was 'Vicky Vale'. "A notorious sex and weapons trafficker was caught last night by the Batman and turned over to the police department. That's one more dangerous criminal off the streets thanks to the shadowy vigilante. It seems that for every tragedy that strikes our city, another turn of events makes it significantly safer for everyone."

Hippolyta crinkled her nose in disgust. The notion that things such as sex traffickers existed in this world baffled and infuriated her, fanning the flames of her obsession at protecting her daughter. True, Batman had helped to end that vile man's evil practices and restore some degree of order. Yet he was just one man. There was only so much that he could do. Themiscrya was a much more superior place, as Bat-men weren't needed to stop sex traffickers, because they didn't exist in the first place. Clearly, man's world was a den of inferior savages best left to their own devices. The Queen doubled her resolve to finish her business in Gotham quickly.

The news show cut to a panel of various intellectuals arguing with each other over the efficacy and morality of a vigilante being allowed to cooperate with police and fight crime. The conversation quickly descended into divisive chaos when one person pointed out that for every good thing Batman did, he seemed to leave even greater devastation in his wake.

Hippolyta lowered the volume again and tuned the rest of it out. The politics of man's world was not her concern. She was here for one reason and one reason only.

The rest of the evening was spent inside her hotel room, ordering room service for a quick meal and then checking the gear that she had purchased. Her special contacts in man's world had kept a reserve of U.S. dollars and high tech equipment at her request, specifically for excursions such as this. She had paid several of them a visit earlier and decided to make use of these resources.

That night Hippolyta went out and into the frigid, oppressive dark of Gotham City in search of any sign of the Batman. She was dressed in a black-dyed set of leather armor and skintight clothes that provided both modest physical protection and stealth advantages. Her bright blonde hair, a dead giveaway, was tucked under a hood. Instead of her winged, pommel-sapphire-encrusted sword, she wielded a much less conspicuous, and significantly less deadly, machete. An Amazonian war bow rested on her back for good measure, along with a quiver of serrated arrows.

Although she had learned of a great Bat-symbol that would light up the sky when 'the Commissioner' wished to speak to Batman, she also knew that the dark hero would likely be out on patrol even if the law keepers had no pressing need for his skills. Therefore, she embarked on a cautious patrol of her own, slinking through the shadows of skylines and alleyways.

It wasn't long until she came across a disturbance. Down in an alleyway that was nestled between several run-down buildings, the feminine screams of a terrified woman could be heard. Hippolyta rushed to the scene immediately, perched off to the side and behind several rows of detritus.

From her concealed position, she saw a gang of thuggish-looking men surrounding a woman who was in a severe state of undress. It also appeared as if the woman was injured, as if the men had roughed her up just for resisting (or simply for sport).

That was all Hippolyta needed to see. Instead of waiting for Batman to manifest so that she might observe and track him, she decided that she could not simply stand by and let such a travesty occur.

Moments later, she had silently crept up behind one of the thugs. Without hesitation, she plunged the machete straight through his heart, causing the blade to erupt from his chest in a spray of blood and viscera. That man slumped over, slipped off the weapon, and was dead without another sound.

The captive female let out a bloodcurdling scream in alarm, and was summarily echoed by the men (albeit in a much deeper tone). So alarmed were they, Hippolyta was able to brutally slice another one's neck open before anyone could react. His blood splashed everyone present as he whimpered helplessly into oblivion.

By this point, the remaining men charged at her in a panic, yelling a constant stream of curse words. One jabbed with a knife, but the attack was laughable. It reminded Hippolyta of Diana learning to fight against a training dummy when she was eight years old. Needless to say, the Queen thwarted him easily. That one practically fell unto her blade, unbalanced as he was by the barrage of deft kicks that she unleashed against him.

Incensed by the loss of their companion, or simply sadistically insane, two more men pressed in on her. After evading several swings from their pipes and baseball bats, she decided to take off one of their hands. While her victim clutched his bleeding stump, she ran him straight through with the machete. He too gurgled pathetically and died.

The last one, baffled by how easily this person was butchering his friends, turned and ran. It was a futile effort.

Hippolyta swiveled, casually aimed, and flicked her wrist. The blade whistled obscenely through the air like a portent of death. An instant passed, and then it was buried in the man's back. His spine crunched, causing him to collapse to the ground, smash his head, and bleed out in paralyzed unconsciousness.

Hippolyta didn't even bother to look around. She was confidant in her throw. Instead, she scanned for the female victim. Her eyes found the woman trying to pull her clothes back on as she rushed away from the scene.

"Where are you going, sister? Let me assist you," Hippolyta said, walking towards the senselessly fleeing woman. She spoke with as much genuine concern as she could muster, given that she was also working through a thick Greek accent. Her English was far from perfect, for it had been a long time since she had last had need of it. Even then, the dialects had been so different back then that there was little they held in common with the modern variant.

At the sound of the voice and approaching footsteps, the woman squealed and doubled her pace whilst looking over her shoulder. Distracted in this manner, she slipped on a pool of blood. This caused her to fall in a heap on the cold pavement.

When she saw the gore-drenched, black-clad murderer still approaching, she crawled backwards as fast her weakened and shocked state would permit. It was still not fast enough to escape, and the killer was looming over her in moments. She continued to scream, but no sound would come out. It seemed that her throat was run raggedly hoarse by this point.

Hippolyta gazed down at the helpless victim. "Please," she began, reaching down to offer a hand, "I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help you."

There was no response other than to flinch from the outstretched hand. The other woman heaved in great lungfulls of stinging air and stared upwards in abject horror. She even quivered visibly with fright.

Hippolyta was momentarily confused by what she perceived was a strange reaction. Then it dawned on her; the woman, in her shock, may not have noticed the timbre of her voice. She removed the hood so that her face was visible. Then she smiled reassuringly downwards, trying to appear as friendly as possible. "See? We are sisters. You need not fear me. You are safe now."

The words did not appear to calm her at all. In fact, if anything, it made the abused woman more panicked and afraid. The Queen briefly wondered if there had been a mistranslation. Then it dawned on her for a second time. She looked down at the blood which encrusted both of them, as well as the arena of the grisly battle. In her protective zeal, she had forgotten that women of this world were not so accustomed to mortal combat. The poor thing was probably terrified of receiving the same treatment. Clearly, no amount of talking would help this scenario.

With nothing else to do, Hippolyta retrieved her sword and scrambled up a fire escape to the building tops once more. From there, she watched over the woman, who eventually collected herself, got dressed, and used a cell phone to dial 911. Minutes passed before the cops arrived and took care of her. Hippolyta stood silent guard through the whole thing, making sure the woman would be okay and was treated respectfully by the authorities. To her earnest surprise, they did.

Guessing that Batman might be drawn to the scene of such an event, Hippolyta waited in the shadows for several hours, watching the police do their job blocking off and investigating the area. To her extreme disappointment, the Bat did not appear.

Figuring that he would have showed himself by now if he was going to, the Queen decided to abandon her patrol so that she might pursue other goals. If she couldn't find Batman himself, she could at least spy on his mansion. Perhaps there were some unexpected insights to be had in that location.

Going off pure memory, Hippolyta used the rental car she had arranged for herself to drive into the hills surrounding the city. Eventually, she found the object of her search: an opulent but old palace perched on a mesa that overlooked the sea.

Figuring that the building would be inundated with elaborate defense systems, she ignored the idea of infiltrating it. Instead, she could wait until morning and try to catch one, or both, of the couple leaving, that she might stalk them throughout the day. To that end, she parked the vehicle a good distance away and along the unassuming road that led to the manor gates.

The wait was as mind-numbingly tedious as it was uneventful. All Hippolyta could think about was how ugly and perverse man's world was, as well as how much she craved to return to Themiscyra with Diana at her side (head cleared of the miasma that had come upon her mind as of late, of course).

Thusly, the Queen stewed in her hatred for many long hours. The events surrounding the conflict between her, Bruce, and her daughter replayed over and over again in her mind. The more times she scrutinized it all, the more inescapable her answer became. The more inescapable her answer became, the more she obsessed over it. It was as if her mind was a vicious cycle, an infinitely recurring loop that fed obscenely back into itself like the Ouroboros devouring its own tail.

After drifting off into several short naps over the course of the day, Hippolyta was jolted to awareness a little bit past noon. The massive gate in front of the mansion was scraping itself open, and the rumbling of a car engine could be heard beyond it.

Focusing intently on the opening, Hippolyta saw a single car exit and turn onto the main road. She prepared to duck out of sight, but luckily, the vehicle was headed in the opposite direction. Hippolyta initiated the engine, and began tailgating the vehicle as closely as she could. She had no fear of being recognized, for she had taken lengths to cover her face with sunglasses and a hood, hidden her weapons, and put on civilian clothes. Still, she tried to remain inconspicuous.

Whether or not the driver recognized her was uncertain. What was certain was that Diana was definitely driving the vehicle. That had become apparent when Hippolyta pulled up alongside her at one point. Invigorated, she pushed onwards into the heart of Gotham city, trailing her wayward daughter.

After fighting through the absurdly intense rush hour traffic, mother and daughter arrived in front of a tall skyscraper whose signage read 'Wayne Enterprises'. Diana pulled into the lot, parked, and headed towards the building. She was dressed in an outfit that appeared to be what the people of man's world considered professional women's attire: a pencil skirt, blouse, jacket, black heels, and glasses. Even more egregious was the slight amount of makeup and hairstyle; a chaste bun.

 _How very un-amazon-like,_ Hippolyta judged. Diana looked like she was integrating into man's world. Hera, she was even dressing like women were expected to in this backwards place: hiding their bodies and natural beauty as if it was something to be ashamed of! And no less disturbing, there was the obvious truth that Diana seemed to be working for Wayne. Who did she think she was, an Amazon Princess, or a common woman of man's world to be used like their plaything? Bruce must have his claws deep in Diana's psyche for things to have progressed to this point.

Hippolyta sped off in an irate fury, imagining a thousand ways to torture Batman for denigrating her precious sun and stars into something she wasn't! The implication of what Bruce had probably been doing to her during the night of her visit while she waited helplessly in the car outside certainly didn't do anything to abate that rage. In fact, Hippolyta felt physically sick over it. Taking a few deep breaths, she did her best to push the sordid imagery out of her head.

On the plus side, at least she had been able to confirm that Diana's Bruce was Bruce Wayne, therefore implying that her suspicion that Wayne and Batman were the same person was correct. It was also very relieving to learn that Diana was at least relatively safe and had a place to live.

Speaking of which, Hippolyta was curious if Diana had her own residence as well, or if she was staying with Wayne. After some deliberation, she decided to switch vehicles and disguises, then come back and follow Diana again after work to see where she went.

 _The pieces are coming together,_ she thought wryly. _Yet there is still much work to do…_

* * *

Orange against the void. That was the image created when the tip of cigarette flared to life. A moment later, the flicker intensified when its owner took a long drag. The somewhat emaciated face of an old man with salt-and-pepper hair was illuminated: Commissioner Gordon.

The wizened detective ponderously exhaled a line of grey smoke, then flipped a switch. More light washed over the roof of Gotham's PD's HQ as the Bat signal flared to life. An intense beam of white light shot up into the sky, painting the shadow of Batman's symbol against the clouds.

Gordon patiently awaited his expected guests, taking leisurely drags on the cigarette and pacing.

He did not have to wait long. A set of feet thumped down on the rooftop, signifying Batman's arrival. _Funny,_ Gordon thought to himself, _that sounded a little…metallic. How unusual for Batman._

His eyes shot wide open as he realized that the person standing behind him wasn't Batman. Gordon's adrenaline spiked as he spun around and drew his police handgun in the same movement.

The Commissioner was not disappointed in his observational skills. The person who had come to visit him was definitely *not* the Bat. In fact, they were very clearly not of the same gender.

"Who the hell are you?" Gordon asked, leveling the weapon at the intruder's head.

"Have no fear. I approach you as an ally," the woman spoke in a regal and diplomatic tone.

Gordon peered at her. All he could see was what looked like a metal statue of a Greco-Roman warrior, only it was very clearly animate. The sheen sort of reminded him of the Batwoman's silver suit…but if this was the same material, it was not of the same shape. Whoever this person was, they were not attempting to liken themselves to a Bat-person at all.

"Why should I believe you?" Gordon asked.

The woman held out her hands in a gesture of peace. "Because I'm here to offer you my help instead of threatening you with violence."

"For all I know, you could be the next brand of Gotham's…"

The old man was cut short when a red-tinged projectile smashed into his firearm, causing it to fly out of his slackening-with-age-grip. He took a few steps back impulsively, even though he recognized the weapon.

A moment later, Robin somersaulted down to the roof and landed gracefully next to the silver-clad woman. Gordon relaxed immediately, chuckling softly.

"Okay, I believe you," he told her. "Sorry about that."

"No apologies needed," she said, holding up a hand. "It is understandable. Your city is a very dangerous, and frankly, strange place, if you don't mind me saying so."

"I don't," Gordon answered, taking another drag and billowing out smoke. "And you're right, it is both of those things, and much more." He let the words hang in the air for a few seconds, then continued. "Friend of the Bat?"

"I guess you could say that," Damian commented dryly, rolling his eyes somewhat. The irony of the statement was not lost on Diana, who glared at the boy harshly. Gordon made note of this interaction, and filed the implication away in his mind palace for later consideration.

"I'll be filling in for Batman for a few days while he recovers from a serious wound that he sustained two nights ago," Diana said. "With your blessing, of course," she added quickly, tilting her armored head in respect.

"Far be it from me to dictate your actions, your Highness. You have my blessing. Besides, I'm not exactly in the business of refusing help from superheroes, now am I?" he answered.

"Glad to hear it. I think we'll…" Diana began, trailing off. A lance of icy panic stabbed her heart. Did he just refer to her as a person of royalty? She saw that Damian's eyes went wide behind the domino mask too. "How did you know?" she asked the old detective seriously.

Gordon chuckled briefly. "I didn't. Not for sure," he said. "I just merely suspected there was a strong probability, and you just confirmed that my suspicions were correct."

The man took another drag, then went on. "In the interest of being polite, I suppose I should give you a real answer, though. Well then…I noticed that you are about the same size, weight, and shape as her. That wasn't enough on its own, even when paired with the similarity in voices. Some people have similar sounding voices, or can imitate others'. Then there was the armor, which bears some obviously strong inspiration from Greek, and I would extrapolate, Amazonian designs. It still didn't rule out the possibility that you were a different Amazon, though. What really brought all the pieces together was the way that you addressed me. Respectful. Regal. Diplomatic. Caring. It immediately reminded me of a certain ambassador I had seen on TV."

Diana peered intently at the man, analyzing him from head to toe. She was getting better at estimating ages, but the best she could do was a rough guess of around 50 to 65. Gordon made quite the sight standing there with his leather trench coat and cigarette, seeming like a protagonist right out of the hard-boil detective movies she had found in Bruce's collection. This leant him a somewhat dashing quality, despite his gruff manner and austere aura.

Gordon seemed well-intentioned and friendly enough, she decided, if a little rough around the edges. What she had heard from Bruce supported this conclusion as well. In fact, the Commissioner strongly reminded Diana of her lover, the more she thought about it. She could certainly see why the two men worked so well together. With this revelation in mind, she decided that she liked and trusted Gordon.

"I am very impressed," Diana said warmly. "Your observational and deductive powers are beyond reproach. But please, call me Myrmidon," she requested, holding out a hand to shake.

"Very well. I can dispense with formalities if that is what you wish, Myrmidon," Gordon said, accepting her outstretched hand. "And don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

"How can we be sure?" Damian asked, the subtext invisible to him. He barely knew Gordon as well, and was worried that the man might have him pegged as Damian Wayne. With his access to school records and detective skills, it wouldn't be hard.

Gordon frowned, then carefully responded, as if choosing his words carefully. "I assure you, friends of the Bat have no reason not to trust me. After all, I was the one who pulled him out of that alley, covered in blood."

Damian's jaw hung open for several seconds while Diana merely smirked from behind the praetor mask. She was hardly surprised that he knew, given how fast Gordon had guessed her identity. Moreover, it had been a work of art, wording that statement vaguely enough to where any listener would believe Gordon had been referring to Batman, and not necessarily Bruce Wayne, while still sending a clear message to the assembled heroes. If she hadn't been convinced yet, she was now.

"Of that, I have no doubt," Diana confidently answered.

"Glad to hear it," Gordon said. "So, did you need a change of costume or something?"

"I'm afraid not," Diana said. "I am Wonder Woman no longer".

"Sorry to hear that," Jim said, empathy evident in his voice. "Anyways, enough of my boorish prying. Let's get down to brass tacks."

Diana furrowed her brows in confusion, not quite getting the expression. Jim didn't notice though, and went right on talking.

"When Batman gave us that scumbag trafficker, our informants gave us a tip that the rest of the ring is rushing to move all of their operations out of town. They know he'll spill his guts, and even if he doesn't, he's a key component of the ring. Things are all in chaos, now. There may be blood as various gangs try to seize the other's 'goods' as they retreat. And of course, there is the distinct possibility that they may simply execute said 'goods' as well, in order to cover their tracks."

Gordon's eyes twitched to Damian, and became all too aware of the fact that the boy was the same age as some of the trafficked people. Deciding that Robin wasn't cut out for this work if he couldn't handle it, the Commissioner went on.

"We need to stop this ring once and for all, and prevent those kids from getting hurt. Yes, that's right: kids. We have good reason to think there may be a sick, inner pedophile black market."

Diana and Damian both felt like throwing up, but soldiered on.

"How can we help?" they both asked at virtually the same time.

"Good news is; we were already setting up a sting before this happened. I think you can accelerate our plans quite a bit if you're willing to work with Gotham PD. It'll be a grueling and dangerous raid, but by tomorrow morning, this filthy business will be wiped from the face of the earth."

The duo nodded, and began conferring with Gordon over strategies and critical information. Several minutes later, each went a separate direction in pursuit of their quest, soaring away into the night like spirits of vengeance.

* * *

Unbeknownst to any of the three, there had been a silent witness to the rendezvous. Hippolyta put her binoculars down, no longer needing them to spy on the trio from her perch several buildings away. She stroked her chin pensively while pondering what she had seen. Unfortunately, she could not read lips. Yet, there was still much to deduce.

The silver woman's armor…it bore a striking resemblance to one of Diana's most prized possessions: a sculpture that she had worked on for decades. Her daughter had always been fascinated with various styles of historical armor and weapons. That project had meant a lot to her. In fact, it still stood in Diana's private quarters on Themiscrya. Thus, it would be an awfully large coincidence for a completely unrelated superhero to don that visage.

More likely, Diana had chosen it deliberately, which meant that she had probably reinvented herself as a new superhero now that her powers were gone. This theory also explained why she had met with this Commissioner Gordon character in Batman's stead, as well as the fact that she was clearly cooperating with Bruce's brat, Robin.

These conclusions infuriated her. It was already horrific enough that Diana was letting herself be treated like Bruce's concubine, and, as she had learned earlier that day, his expendable slave. Yet, on top of those grave injustices, it now appeared as if she had been duped into doing the work of protecting Gotham on his behalf; into risking her own life instead of his. And this was despite her lack of powers, no less! It seemed a foregone conclusion to her that Bruce was truly a selfish and arrogant coward to behave this way, to twist Diana to his purposes in such a manner without any respect for her noble status and strong will.

The Queen was tempted to extend her ire towards her daughter, as well, for letting herself be so…changed and influenced in these radical ways. However, the thought was too painful to bear. Instead, Hippolyta told herself that Diana had merely succumbed to cruel, exterior manipulation, just as she herself had fallen for Hades.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, slackened her jaw (which, she realized, was causing her teeth to grit very hard), and took a few deep breaths. It was very hard to get a grip when she was panicked as she was, heart pounding with terror at the dire situation Diana was in and how badly she needed her mother's help.

Eventually, the Queen managed to achieve a modicum of calm. At least she had gained some valuable insights, she told herself. There was still the burning question of what she wanted to actually *do* in order to remedy the 'Bruce problem'. There were so many variables and possibilities. What could she do? What *should* she do? It was a painful conundrum, far beyond the intensity of any trial that she had previously faced in her thousands of years of life. And that was seriously saying something, considering the origins of her people.

Hippolyta sighed. Out in the open on a cold night was not a good place for her to grapple with these heavy concerns, especially after not getting any sleep in nearly 24 hours. As it was, she could feel her eyelids starting to droop heavily and her head pound with a dull ache. She desperately needed rest, time to think, and possibly more research. _There has to be a way,_ she told herself.

With nothing else to do, the deeply troubled Queen slunk quietly through the night in the direction of her hotel room.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: I wanted to take the time to clarify a few things that people have been asking me, since others might be wondering.**

 **No, Tim will not be in this story. The reason why is because he's all messed up from the Joker brainwashing him and stopped being Robin, just like in the normal DCAU. Dick might appear, and Jason can't, for obvious reasons. I want the primary focus to be B and D.**

 **No, I did not intend an implication of a Batman and Oracle/Batgirl/Barbara pairing. Those lines several chapters back were meant to signify that he felt bad about what happened between them in the past (where he basically was intimate with her only because he was lonely and not because he actually loved her, while she was head over heels for him). I just wanted to briefly explore that idea since I love the killing Joke film** **adaptation, which is obviously cannon in my universe. They also hint at something in the DCAU as well, but Killing Joke is the first thing I've seen confirm it.**

 **The other thing was this: I have a lot of ideas and basically know where I want to take the story. I'm debating whether to make a sequel at some point, or drag this into a 30-40 chapter story. I thought I might as well ask which one people most preferred.**

 **Now with all that out of the way, enjoy.**

"Goddess…" Diana mumbled under her breath, slamming a palm into her forehead as she leaned in over the desk, ebony locks fluttering in disarray. It was the only way she could think to express her utter vexation and rage at the moment, short of screaming and tearing her hair out.

The exiled princess in disguise had just been served several legal documents which essentially invalidated a large stack of other paperwork that she had painstakingly done just earlier that day. Her wrist burned with a cramp from gripping a pen for so long, which was in itself a strange new feeling: her healing factor used to eliminate such minor annoyances. Moreover, she had even worked through lunch to finish that task, a fact which her agonizingly empty stomach chose to remind her of at that moment with a needy growl.

Now all that effort was for nothing, rendered obsolete by the signatures of some corrupt lawyers who possessed no regard for the many former, wronged Lexcorp employees who they were preventing Wayne Enterprises from helping. That was the true source of Diana's intense frustration: small-minded and selfish men who were only in it for themselves.

"Shut up!" she blurted at her annoying stomach in a moment of catharsis. Her head shot up a moment later, then flicked to the open office door which might have allowed someone to notice the unbecoming outburst. Thankfully, it appeared that no one had. That was hardly surprising, for everyone else in her department was probably equally overwhelmed at the moment.

"Anthony," she called out the door after a few moments of collecting herself.

"Kinda busy, what do you need?" her secretary replied, juggling a phone call and some work of his own.

"Where is Keith?" she asked as sweetly as she could, trying her utmost to keep that Olympian temper out of her tone. To her own ears, it sounded as if she did reasonably well. There was room for improvement, though.

"Uh…I think he's out," Anthony responded, rifling through a pile of papers and notes. "Yeah. Note here says he left to talk to Clara two floors down for some reason."

"Suffering Sappho," Diana cursed, then walked over to his desk after fixing her hair. "What could he possibly be doing that's more important than this legal firestorm we're having! He is the resident legal expert, after all."

"Uhh…I don't know. Just wrote that it's urgent and he can't be disturbed. I believe his office is locked as well."

Diana pinched the bridge of her nose. "Just figure out how to connect me to that flirting fool so I can give that man a talking-to, or send someone to give these papers to him right away," Diana barked a little harshly.

"Can do," her assistant responded.

Diana stomped back to her office. It was as if the universe itself was conspiring to pile annoyance after annoyance on her plate in some ham-fisted attempt to assassinate her via a heart attack. Still, that didn't excuse her being so rough with her loyal and ever-helpful secretary. There would be time to make up for it later, though. In less than 30 minutes, she needed to meet with some arrogant government lackeys who, based on the way things were going, were probably going to inform her that Uncle Sam was freezing any further actions pertaining to what remained of Lex Corp. The worst part about it (besides that fact that it left more tragic victims hanging) was that she needed to swallow all of her current negative emotions, walk into that board room with a mask of friendliness (even though she despised those men), and somehow manage to channel enough of her natural charisma to charm the pants off them. At the end of the day, if she could do a good job convincing these officials that Wayne Enterprises was devoted to doing an ethical and clean job of picking up Lexcorp's ashes, it may just be possible to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

It was a tall order, but it was one that she was confident that she could meet. After all, Diana had faced down gods, legends, and super-powered villains. She was her people's greatest warrior. She had served on the Justice League. Persuading a few big-wigs couldn't be that hard in comparison, could it?

Diana took several deep, steadying breaths. In the interim of meditation, the horrid images of the last several nights filtered into her mind. Those raids against the traffickers had shown her some truly haunting sights that even now turned her stomach. Such cruelty and perversion was purely unimaginable, yet there it was, etched into the back of her brain for all time.

 _Now I know how Bruce feels,_ Diana told herself. _Having to witness the worst of humanity every night, while also serving as CEO of one of the most powerful corporations in the world by day. It's a wonder his hair hasn't turned completely grey with all of this stress, assuming his days are anything like mine._

"Miss Prince", Anthony called from the door. "They're here a bit early."

If Bruce could do it, so could she. Newfound energy and resolve flooded through her. "Thank you," she replied. "I'll be ready in a minute. And I told you, you can call me 'Diana'."

Rubbing her tired eyes (resulting from a lack of sleep), she tried her best to shove the agonizing stress of the day to the side. Even harder was suppressing the yawn. It was too bad that this building didn't have an iced mocha machine. It was just her luck, she supposed.

* * *

The rooftop was cold, dark, and quiet. The cold he could do without. The dark and the quiet, though…they were just the way he liked it. He was used to them. Had been used to, he corrected himself. Still, the conditions evoked a certain sense of solitude that reminded him of comfort and safety. He loved lonely little places like this. They were his private sanctums in which he could melt away from the world and simply…be. Good way to get some thinking done, too.

However, on this night the solitude was not so welcome to Batman. The moments slipped by torturously, each one of them giving him nothing else to do but obsess over the painful task he had steeled himself to perform that night.

His mind slipped back to the events that occurred earlier that day. Bruce's shoulder had finally healed enough for him to don his alternate persona and go out at night to protect Gotham once more. In truth, he had dreaded this eventuality, for it prevented him from being able to postpone what he knew had to do.

As it just so happened, Diana had been extremely busy at work; important meetings, deadlines, even a few emergencies, and the like. Hardly surprising, considering that he department was absolutely swamped in legal drama. Thus, Bruce hadn't been able to see her or talk to her all day. The only time he could guarantee being able to catch her alone for a while was this evening when she met him at their predetermined meeting spot in Gotham for the start of their patrol. The unfortunate result was that he was now forced to talk to her en masque, which would of course…complicate things. Nevertheless, it was the only good option. What he needed to say was very urgent and could wait no longer.

The crisp sound of a grappling cable being fired caught his attention. His love was coming. He could nHe could no longer delay this confrontation.

A few moments later, Myrmidon graced the scene with her presence. "Strange place for an evening stroll," she remarked, approaching him so that they stood face-to-face.

The light comment made him want to chuckle, simply because it came from her. Anyone else making that joke would have been met with frigid silence or a terse change of subject. For this reason, he let himself show a grim smile.

Although he could not physically see her facial expression, he could well imagine the concerned frown that she wore there. "Something wrong?" Myrmidon asked.

Batman couldn't bring himself to lie and say "no". Neither could he answer truthfully and say "yes". So he just simply stood there impassively.

"Giving me the typical Bat-treatment, I see. Or is it those traffickers we've been trying to bring down that trouble you so? Don't worry, we'll finish the job and drive them out of Gotham tonight for sure!" She stated the last part vindictively, like a viscous warrior reassuring a commander that the retreating army would be overrun.

Batman didn't know how to broach this subject, but he didn't want to drag it out, either. The words didn't seem to want to come, so he just blurted it out.

"We," he began, gesturing at the two of them, "won't. Damian and I, on the other hand, will."

There was a long, awkward pause. He half imagined that literal daggers would come out of the slits in her praetor mask, so intensely was Myrmidon regarding him, as if staring straight through his soul. It was a look she had given criminals or supervillains on occasion, and it almost sent a shiver down his spine.

"That's not funny. Dark humor does not become you, Batman," was her icily dangerous response. Her hands vexingly found her hips, posture tilted to side, head cocked, and legs firmly planted. It was a stance he knew her to take when someone infuriated her, usually with an inadequate threat. He made no mistake, though: she was tense and ready to spring. Obviously she knew, or at least strongly suspected, what he was trying to do, but was offering him an easy out in case he prudently chose to reconsider.

The message was clear: "You can't tell me what to do. I go where I please, and Goddess save anyone who tries to bar my path."

Truthfully, Batman didn't know how to respond. There was no right way to go about this, and to say that he was inept at putting things delicately would be the overstatement of the century. The only answer he could give was silence.

A similar statement could be made about Myrmidon, who was overflowing with outrage. Her hands balled into fists and she began to shake imperceptibly. After the day she'd had, there was absolutely no patience left within her to deal with Batman's absurd decision. The singular calm voice of reason inside her was drowned out by a sea of irrational wrath.

There was no way to vocalize all these complex emotions, so she simply exploded into a fit of Themiscyran curses, jabbing her finger through the air at him the whole time. "You. Can't. Do. This," she finished after a pause for air.

"I can, and I just did," Batman replied coldly. "I have my reasons. Trust me. I'll explain later," he followed up, just a little more softly. The inflection was barely noticeable in order to protect his costumed reputation. Myrmidon half-realized it.

The first thought that ran through her mind was an image of smashing him in the face with her fist, along with the rush of satisfaction that doing so would create. Her body jerked into motion, then stopped a split second later. What rational part of her remained remembered how she had once hurt Bruce badly, and sworn never to do so again.

On some level, Diana was made aware of the fact that her temper was running out of control, probably due to her father's influence. It even felt as if Hades was manifesting palpably in her mind, her personality fragmented between his and that of her own. Looking at Batman, all she could see was red. It was like looking through a foggy, red-tinted mirror.

Diana screwed her eyes shut and concentrated as hard as she could. After some indefinable amount of time had passed, the sensations cleared. She was herself again. That was not to say that she wasn't still angry, though.

Batman seemed oblivious to the abstract turmoil within her. He could tell that something was up, though. Concern. It reminded her that he cared, and obviously had some kind of reason for what he was doing.

"Why, Br-" she began, then stopped. Aphrodite knew who could be watching them right now. "Why, Batman? Just tell me. After all I've sacrificed for you, I think you owe me that much!"

"I have my reasons," Batman said, painfully aware of their limited ability to converse honestly in this setting.

Diana threw her hands up in the air. This situation was hopeless. She rationally understood why he was being so vague, but the necessity of it all, the communication barrier, it fanned the flames of her ire once more. The endless layers mystery and complexity that came along with dating Bruce drove her mad. She was just so…sick of it. Sick of it all.

"That's what you always say! This is such…I'm done. Just done with this, Batman!" she blurted. Without further ado, Diana turned and grappled away into the night, partly for her own sanity, and partly for fear of letting her temper seize control again.

As she raced over the skyline, she tried not to dwell on the fact that it felt as if she was being exiled all over again. Apparently, she belonged in the role of Myrmidon just as much as she belonged in the role of an Amazon, belonged in the role of Wonder Woman.

As the minutes ticked by, a raw, sickening feeling of panic welled within her. She did her best to ignore it by pushing herself to go faster and faster. The quicker she leaped rooftops, the more it felt like she was being chased by something, which only made her speed up. It was a vicious cycle of unease which deluded her into thinking that she might be able to outrun her past. However, there was no future for her to run towards, she realized. No, it felt like she was simply sprinting towards the unknown, transitory void and becoming a person trapped between worlds, bereft of identity.

Diana hit the balcony of her penthouse with wetness in her eyes. All she wanted to do was collapse on her bed and think, to try to figure everything out. Failing that, the oblivion of sleep was a restful option. Perhaps she'd find some use for those bottles of wine she'd bought earlier.

Almost immediately upon reaching the threshold, Diana willed her armor to mold into a set of normal clothing so that they could be removed easily. With little regard, she cast the worthless articles aside.

"Get a grip, Diana," she told herself, plopping on the bed and covering her face with her hands as she took deep breaths.

"What ails you so, my child?" a soothing voice called to her from the darkness.

Diana was up in a heartbeat, taking a solid fighting stance despite her near-nakedness. It was not a lack of recognition that alarmed her so. No, she knew exactly to whom this voice belonged, and it was the last person she wanted to see at that moment (but only narrowly).

"Nothing that concerns you," she replied. "You can be sure of that."

A moment later, the lights of her apartment flickered on, revealing the striking image of Hippolyta standing there before her.

"I beg to differ," Hippolyta said, frowning. "You are clearly stressed, and there are tears in your eyes. Please, indulge your mother and tell me what troubles you. Because despite what you may have convinced yourself, I do care." There was genuine concern in her tone, Diana noted.

"Then you have a funny way of showing it," she responded bitterly, starring straight into her mother's eyes. It reminded Hippolyta of the way that one might glare at a dire foe just before initiating a duel to the death.

Stifling her annoyance at her daughter's misguided outrage, the Queen reminded herself to be patient. How things had come to such a contentious point between them, she could not quite grasp. In any case, making an enemy out of Diana would not help. She decided not to debate the point. Perhaps if she could not convince her with words, actions would eventually break through.

"You have some rather lovely living arrangements," Hippolyta observed, turning slowly to scan the penthouse. She casually strode through the building, inspecting it. "A little far from your roots, but the inspiration is there. I can see why you decorated it this way." She followed it up with a smile and slight nod of her head. "I approve."

"I don't need your approval," was Diana's instantaneous reply. There was honestly nothing else she could think to say at the moment. All she wanted was desperately for the other woman to leave and never come back, like a vermin or some other sort of bothersome, irrelevant nuisance. As it was, she visibly twitched in order to hold back the fury that was threatening to explode.

"Well, you've certainly made that fact very clear to me these past few months," Hippolyta replied with a deep sigh. This conversation was going nowhere, but she had expected as much. Time to switch her approach. "For what it's worth, I'm here as your mother, not your Queen. I just want to talk."

The degree of presumption was almost unbearable to Diana. "And what makes you think that I even want to see you?" she shot back louder than she should have, leaning in and aggressively sweeping her hand.

"I'm your mother, and I know you still love me."

"Then you presume far too much, my Queen."

Hippolyta deflated, seeming as if she was honestly, deeply wounded by the remark. After a long delay, she tried again. "Diana…" she began, weakly, taking a few furtive steps towards her daughter, hand outstretched.

Diana's physical reaction was more wounding than her words. Her daughter flinched away from her as if she was a hideous monster. _Perhaps in her eyes, I am,_ Hippolyta realized. Her heart seemed to jerk painfully. The message was received.

"Get out," Diana demanded suddenly. More tears came to her eyes, but she ignored them and remained resolute. "Get-" she began again, but found her voice cracking. She swallowed the words and fought to keep herself composed.

Hippolyta was completely awestruck. Despite all that had happened, she'd expected Diana to be more warm and welcoming. Still, the tears in her eyes bellied mixed feelings. She steadied herself with a breath before continuing, in spite of the invisible dagger lodged in her chest.

"If that is truly how you feel, then I will grant your request. So long as you at least hear out what I have to say first, that is," Hippolyta stated as evenly as she could. "Sound fair?" She tried to affect a friendly demeanor at the last part, and half-succeeded.

Diana stood there for a long time, seeming the very definition of 'conflicted'. Her eyes roamed the floor as she mulled over her response. Part of her wanted to scream and throw furniture at her mother. The other half yearned to collapse in her arms and cry out her woes like she had always done for the past several thousands of years whenever something troubled her so deeply.

At length, Diana decided that there was no going back to the way things were. Not after what Hippolyta had done. In fact, the thought of looking at her, or even being in the same room, much less touching her, disgusted Diana. This person had callously threatened and ordered the death of her dearly beloved, even attacked him directly on several occasions. She had not only cut Diana off from her people, but her powers as well. Because of Hippolyta, Diana had nothing left anymore. Nothing, save for Bruce, and his transgressions paled in comparison to hers.

"If it will get you out of my presence sooner, then I will indulge your appetite for conversation," Diana grudgingly replied. The stinging words hardly bothered Hippolyta at this point, so desensitized was she.

There was so much she wanted to say. Perhaps the best place to start was the headspace she occupied right at that moment.

"I bear your vitriol with indifferent stoicism because I know it comes from a passionate place deep inside you, Diana. I can see the feelings of betrayal there, inscribed across your face and written in your eyes like a sign," she began, pacing anxiously. "After what has transpired, and before whatever may yet come, I had to know that I attempted to speak with you calmly. I had to know that I at least tried, just once, to make you understand my point of view, to dissuade you from continuing down this path that you have so adamantly taken to."

To her pleasure, Diana gazed with indifferent curiosity. It was plain that she would have much preferred to be left in peace, but denied that option, she was intrigued. That was good. Perhaps there was still some reasonable piece of her left to reach. Hippolyta mulled over her next words very carefully.

"It is for this reason that I do not doubt that you love him. Earnest and true love, I mean. It is of the kind that I myself felt for your…father, once. As such, I am certain that there is no better position than mine to warn you just how dangerous such feelings can be."

Diana fussed with her hair a little bit, considering her mother's words. "Perhaps that is so, but I am not you and Bruce is not Hades."

Hippolyta nodded. "You're right. It is indeed a different situation. But nevertheless, he is a man, and you are an amazon. The two are not meant to mix. As authentic as your emotions are, no good can come of this union. Surely you can see that."

Diana shook her head. "No. I don't accept that. We Amazons are meant for so much more than the destiny you've envisioned for us."

Hippolyta raised her eyebrows in shock. "Oh?"

"Our mission, as dictated by the Five,", she began, speaking the last two words disdainfully, "was to bring peace and equality to the world. Yet for thousands of years we were awfully content to simply sequester ourselves on our island with our immortality, magical blessings, and paradise, judging men as filthy and inferior while their world was left to burn."

"I can see why you may feel that way," Hippolyta said. Then she furrowed her brows in preparation for her next remark. "This world is simply too corrupt, too debased. It is beyond saving, Diana. The best we can do is keep to ourselves, living in peace with our autonomy intact."

"As far as I can tell, we never even tried," Diana shot back.

"It's true" Hippolyta said, sighing. "Perhaps we could have done more. That is why you were eventually able to convince me of your mission to protect man's world. I approved of it then, and I approve of it now."

"Then why did you take my powers from me?!" Diana shouted. The sheer pain was extremely evident in her tone. It jarred Hippolyta. "Do you know how much that role meant to me? I feel as if you've stripped away my very identity, mother. I want you to know that."

"I'm aware," Hippolyta said, nodding her head empathetically. "It pained me indescribably to do so, more than you can imagine, but it was necessary. Protecting man's world is a far cry from letting it taint you, letting a MAN taint you, and surrendering to that man. As our Queen, I could not, in good conscience, violate my duty by allowing our Champion to so poorly reflect our ideals and values. The Five agreed. And as your mother, I feared for you. Knowing how you had changed…it gnawed at my heart. I tried, am still trying, to save you, Diana. To restore you to the beautiful, proud glory that you once were."

Diana was flabbergasted, and could merely scoff.

Hippolyta narrowed her eyes. "What about that admission do you find so humorous?"

How could Diana even begin to answer that question? Her mother's level of adherence to outdated, regressive ideas was beyond belief. Eventually, she settled upon an answer.

"You must have a fetid view of love if you could describe my connection with Bruce in such…low terms. Frankly, it sickens me to hear you to claim that something so precious and beautiful, something that has enriched my life and made me a thousand-fold more joyful, has 'tainted' me."

"Perhaps that is so. Again, I am not denying the existence or validity of your feelings. I'm merely pointing out an obvious truth. Love has led you to a dark place, Diana. I've seen you, dressing like the women of this world, working for Bruce as if you were his slave, even risking your life in his stead. I look at you and I feel like I barely recognize you anymore, Diana."

"That makes two of us."

Hippolyta ignored the spiteful comment. "This world doesn't deserve you, and you don't deserve it. It is vile, misogynistic, dangerous, violent, backwards, and much more. The same applies to him, to an extent. He is a man, after all, no matter much he may seem to fight for justice. No, you deserve much better. You're my sun and stars!"

Diana was shaking her head, clucking her tongue in frustration. She even let out a mild chuckle to herself. The insanity of her mother's words was so obvious that it might as well be tattooed on her forehead. Yet despite that, she blathered on as if ignorant of the hypocrisy.

 _She just hasn't seen what you've seen,_ Diana told herself. _Maybe there's a possibility to make her see reason, if I could just convince her to believe me._ She decided to make one last, desperate plea.

The exiled princess looked her mother in the eyes, and for the first time during the whole exchange, it was not a disdainful look. There was hope burning there in those azure orbs.

"You spoke of coming here to try explain yourself," Diana began slowly, as if double-checking the words as they came out of her mouth. "Perhaps you are interested in at least hearing how I see things?"

Hippolyta nodded. "Go ahead," she said, even though she doubted that her daughter had anything to say which could sway her opinion. "I'll listen."

Diana took a deep breath. There were many long moments that passed between the two as she gathered her words. For people thousands and thousands of years old, a few minutes of silence meant next to nothing. Hippolyta would have eagerly awaited Diana's response for hours, for the fine distinction between minutes and hours was almost imperceptible to her. In fact, an hour could well have passed, and neither woman would have even known.

"You're wrong. About all of it. I believed the same exact way that you do, mother. That all changed when I met the Justice League; valiant, brave, and noble men willing to risk their lives to protect others. At first I was skeptical of them, arrogant and haughty, even; as you are. But to my surprise, they treated me, and Hawkgirl, as equals. In the following months, I came to see that man's world wasn't quite what I was told it was. Yes, there is plenty of tragedy, suffering, murder, subjugation, rape, and worse. It is an ugly place. I do not deny this, but I do deny that it is unredeemable. There is beauty here as well. There are good men, and no one epitomizes this truth to me more than Bruce.

"Truly there is no one more self-sacrificing, more deeply _caring,_ than that man. If you could just understand one tenth of what he goes through, what he risks in order to save lives and help people, you would understand what I mean," Diana said, her voice rising to a passionate crescendo as she spoke.

Unbeknownst to her, the speech was having a radically different result than she intended. Instead of being awed, Hippolyta was taken aback by the severity of her daughter's misplaced conviction. It only increased her determination.

Meanwhile, Diana continued on. "On average, men have vastly changed from the ones that you remember. They are not the savage brutes of millennia past. There is no malevolent patriarchy oppressing women. In some cases, I've found that affairs are quite the opposite! No, in this world, I am an equal, and proud of it. As I said, things have radically changed (and in no thanks to us, despite it being our sworn mission). And do you know what the ironic part is? We were, and you still _are_ , too blinded by misandry to even notice" she said, pointing accusingly at her mother.

Diana brushed a few strands of hair out of eyes and took a calming breath so that she could curb her aggression. Then, without missing a beat, she plunged on ahead. "I work for Bruce because he has given me position of power that I can use to help people, which is something you don't seem to care about. It was my choice. I donned a new crime-fighting persona because I am needed. I have a set of skills that I can use to save lives, and I would be remiss if I did not employ them. Again, my choice. I give myself to Bruce because I love him. It is my choice. There is no coercion or tainting in such a thing, mother.

"True, there are times that he hurts me emotionally. Our relationship is not without its downs. However, it is filled with many wonderful, delightful ups as well. At the end of the day, I trust him. So far you've only infantilized and tried to control me, without respect for my will. If there's anyone in this world who has subjugated me, it is you. Maybe you can prove me wrong, though. If you trust and respect me in the slightest, then show it by taking my judgement into consideration for once." Diana's chest heaved breathlessly at the conclusion of her speech, anxiously awaiting the other woman's response.

For half a minute or so, a supremely tense and uncomfortable silence set over the room. Hippolyta stared off to the side, appearing lost in deep thought. Diana's heart tingled with hope that her mother might have actually listened, really _listened,_ to her this time. Perhaps the distance that was ever-growing between them would bridge itself, starting the process of healing their estranged relationship.

Those hopes were revealed to be unfounded when Hippolyta turned to face Diana again. The latter saw pain, sadness, and resignation in the former's eyes. She was unmoved.

"Diana, Diana," Hippolyta began softly, shaking her head, "…my daughter. What has happened to you? How you have changed…they've got you in this too deep. I can see that now." The Queen closed the distance to the black-haired woman before Diana could react, utterly stunned by the fact that her passionate words had been effortlessly deflected off the armor of Hippolyta's ignorance.

Before Diana knew what was happening, Hippolyta was putting a hand on her cheek. "You say that I cannot understand, but it is you who cannot. You did not see what Heracles and his men did to our ancient people, did not experience true degradation and suffering as I have. This knowledge blocks you from seeing past the sleek veneer that you are shown and detecting the ugly nature of men hiding behind. But it is not your fault, my sun and stars, and so I forgive you."

Diana's mind reeled, struggling to process the sheer incredulity that washed over her like a wave. So many emotions raced passed her consciousness that it was hard to pick out individual ones. Betrayal, isolation, sorrow, fury, hopelessness, lethargy…it was all too much.

Before she knew what she was doing, Diana slapped her mother's hand away. "Get out. Don't touch me, and never come back," she commanded, voice perfectly impassive. She starred straight into her mother's eyes. She was defeated, too overwhelmed and broken to do much else, and Hippolyta could see it was well as hear it.

A flash of shock passed over the Queen's face, but only for an instant. Then she was nodding understandingly yet condescendingly. She seemed on the verge of tears herself, but held them in.

"I made you a deal, and I intend to keep it. You've heard me out, and your mother will take her leave of you, as you so clearly desire," Hippolyta said, sounding just as broken. She turned on her heel and strode towards the penthouse's front door, unable to bear another moment of this torture. "Just know that…I love you. I really do, and that is what guides my thoughts actions above all else," she said over her shoulder, waiting for a response. When none came, she resolutely let herself out of the apartment.

Something burned within Diana to shout after her mother that she loved her back, or even to go running after her, in spite of all that just happened. She despised herself for feeling that way. At that moment there was nothing the princess wanted more than to either let go of her love and respect for Hippolyta, or to gain the strength of the character to embrace it anyway. The ironic thing was, Diana wasn't sure what option she preferred.

Now alone, the raven-haired woman exploded in a fit of tears and rage. She hollered Themiscryan curses, threw pillows across the room (causing a lamp to break), and punched a dent in the wall.

After a few minutes of this, she was too physically drained to continue. With nothing else for it, Diana collapsed upon her mattress. She immediately curled up into a ball and shut her eyes tight, wanting nothing more than to simply block out this cruel, painful world and drift into the peace of non-consciousness.

Diana willed herself to sleep even though she was caught in a world of contradicting feelings; sadness and anger, love and hate, loneliness and social claustrophobia. She was lost between vengeful past and uncertain future, stripped of multiple identities at every turn by people she knew loved her. At length she realized that she didn't know who she was anymore. Amazon? Myrmidon? Wonder Woman? Diana Prince? All of those answers seemed like lies.

Her tears dampened the pillow and every waking moment felt like an inescapable, existential agony. However, at a tortuously slow pace, she did eventually manage to drift off into the sweet mercy of oblivion.

* * *

Outside the apartment, Hippolyta stormed down the hallway that led to the elevator. Now that she was away from Diana's sight, she did not need to disguise her naked aggression. It was not an aggression aimed at her daughter, but rather, an intensified disdain for the man she held most responsible for what had happened to her.

Although tears threatened to choke her, there was one positive side of the painful confrontation: she left the building with a renewed sense of conviction. She had been able to confirm her theories about the situation, and felt comforted in knowing that she had at least attempted a civil, peaceful solution. What would occur next was justified out of necessity, and she would be free of guilt.

Hippolyta's hands balled into fists. Her mind was clear, unburdened. Things were much more simple now. She knew what she had to do.

"I'm sorry, Bruce," she mumbled to herself. "…but I _will_ have my daughter back."

 **Author's Note: I'm having so much fun making you guys cry. Muhuhuhuaha! Someone better call the fanfic police.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Notes: I'm so sorry it's taken me this long to update. I love this story and I do want to keep working on it. A combination of factors, mainly real life concerns and me getting burned out on it, prevented me from writing any chapters for a while. I'm back now and I'm into this story again with a fresh mind.**

 **If you're still paying attention, kudos. That's awesome. I really appreciate you fans.**

 **Also, I got a cool gift for my birthday that I think you guys might like. Go to normal imgur address and add "/a/pXa1r" if you want to see it.**

 **Also, I started a Mass Effect shipping/drama fic called "Where We Began". If you're into that fandom, and you like Shepard/Tali, I would be humbled if you decided to check it out.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

"Oh, hello Mr. Wayne!" Diana's secretary greeted as Bruce strode confidently through the busy office. The cacophony of ringing phones, rattling faxes, and malfunctioning printers was grating on his ears. He much preferred the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops, the cold wind rustling through Gotham's alleys, and even gunshots. It's what he was used to.

Frowning, Bruce asked "Is Miss Prince in today?"

"Yes. Her door's closed at the moment, but she's definitely in there. Not sure how busy she is, though," Anthony offered. He didn't need to add that things were chaotic in the department. That much was obvious. Ordinarily, he would have tried to deflect visitors, but he was not going to tell the CEO of Wayne Enterprises 'no'.

"Thanks," Bruce replied, nodding. He walked over to the nearby door which bore a brass plaque reading 'Diana Prince'. He was about to knock when another man suddenly put a firm hand on Bruce's arm.

"Whoa there, pal," the guy said a little roughly. "Can't you tell Miss Prince is busy? In fact, we all are."

Bruce suppressed a natural reflex to flip this person over his shoulder and send them crashing into a nearby wall. Instead, he turned his head slowly to regard the man.

He was dressed professionally enough. Probably a lawyer or something. That meant he was easily replaceable. Good lawyers were worth their weight in gold these days, but bad ones were a dime a dozen. The balance of probability indicated Wayne Enterprises could likely survive this fool being laid off. Moreover, Bruce was not in a good mood.

"What's your name?" he asked calmly but brusquely. The irritation was obvious in his voice.

"Brown. Keith Brown, resident legal expert," the buffoonish man answered, grinning cockily, as if the name and title was supposed to carry some kind of weight. He beamed awkwardly, as if trying to affect a macho attitude.

"Do you like your job, Mr. Brown?" Bruce asked seriously, narrowing his deadly eyes.

"Very much," Keith answered, pursing his lips. "But I'm not sure what that…" he started. Recognition suddenly appeared in his eyes, showing that he had finally realized to whom he was speaking.

"Oh! Uh…Mr. Wayne…yeah…go on. I'll get, uh, out of your way," he babbled nervously.

Bruce didn't even bother to reply. Instead, he merely shot the rapidly departing man a grim stare. When Keith had hastily departed, Bruce knocked on Diana's door.

A delay. Then, the door opened to the sound of her voice. "Hello? Oh…Mr. Wayne," she stated dryly. "To what do I owe the…pleasure," she asked, deadpanning the last word. It was plain she had no patience for the pretense of niceties. At least Bruce knew where he stood.

"I just thought I'd come by to continue our discussion about that important business from several nights ago," he explained with painfully phony cheerfulness.

Diana continued to glance impassively at him. Her orbs swept back and forth, checking to see if anyone was watching or listening. To her relief, it seemed as if no one was.

"Alright, then, come in and have a seat," she answered, demeanor as icy as ever.

Bruce stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and lazily took a seat opposite her desk as instructed. Diana did the same, but her bearing was regal and dignified.

They stared awkwardly at one another for several moments. When it became clear that Diana wasn't going to be the first to break the silence, Bruce began.

"How are you doing?" he asked with genuine concern in his tone. "We haven't exactly been seeing each other, or even talking, lately. You've been ignoring my texts and calls."

"Maybe that's because I have no wish to speak with you," she shot back.

Bruce looked wounded, and she instantly regretted her words. That's the way depression felt though, she supposed. Empty. Muted. Everything seemed not to matter as much as it should, even the things she rationally understood were most important to her. In the face of such apathy, all she could focus on was making it through the day by clinging to what little she had left: working at Wayne Enterprises and trying to use her skills to help people. Yet even here she could not escape the object of her frustration. With a mental sigh, Diana resigned herself to having every inch of her life intruded and possessed by someone else. After all, she was well acquainted with that treatment by now.

"I can see why you would feel that way," Bruce said at length. "I'm sorry."

"No you're not," the former heroine responded, shaking her head. "Do you think I don't know you after all this time? You're not sorry. If you were, you wouldn't have done it."

Bruce nodded. "True. I'm not sorry that I told you not to moonlight in Gotham anymore. But I am sorry that doing that hurt you so badly, Diana."

She felt like crying, but blocked out the emotion. Everything seemed to be slipping away from her. She was lost and confused and hurt. She wanted nothing more than to seek solace in his arms, but her proudly stubborn Amazon instincts told her that the last thing she should do is admit weakness, especially to the very person who had wronged her. Perhaps those instincts were foolish, but they were part of who she was nonetheless.

"I…that's fair," Diana managed to whisper softly. It felt like a massive weight was lifted from her shoulders.

Bruce suddenly leaned forward and snaked his hands across the table to gently caress hers, as if in thanking her for the absolution.

"I had my reasons. Good reasons," his baritone told her. He met her eyes. This time she peered back with affection.

"I know. I…I've had some time to think about it, and I understand your reasons," she replied. "But that doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt." Despite her searing declaration, she caressed his rough, calloused hands in return, even entwined their fingers more deeply.

"Diana, you're an exceptionally strong person," Bruce began. "That's why I hate seeing you this way. I despise being the cause of it even more so. But this just proves my point. We can't maintain a close professional and romantic relationship. Not in Gotham."

She nodded. "It's what happened with Mask that made you think of this, isn't it?" When Bruce didn't answer, she went on. "It's not that you fear for my safety…"

"…it's that I can't trust myself to remain objective and do the mission while thinking of you," he finished for her. He withdrew from the contact with her and put a hand over his face. "I gambled with your life, Diana. That is not acceptable. And even more horrifying…if it were you or all the innocents in Gotham, I know I'd choose you in a heartbeat. That is what scares me more than anything."

Diana's heart did that vexing thing where it seemed to clench with agonizing affection, do backflips, and hum all at once. _Goddess damn it,_ she thought. _Why_ _does this man have to kill me so?_

"Really?" Diana asked dumbly, eyes wide.

Bruce nodded.

Diana snatched his hand up, stroked the back of it with a thumb, and brought it to her mouth for a quick kiss.

"It's okay, Bruce," she passionately whispered. "I forgive you."

Bruce smiled back at her. It was an earnest one, full of appreciation and love, and not one of his cheesy, cocky playboy grins. Smiles like this were a sight that she seldom saw, but it was all the more special for its rarity. She was pleased that she could bring this kind of emotion out of such a somber and detached man. The fact that it was possible for her to do so reminded Diana that while Bruce was often cold, calculating, and callous in his decisions, he was also capable of deep affection. This was somebody she could share her burdens with, an anchor to attach herself to in this time of confusion.

Her face must have revealed some faint clue of her inner turmoil, for Bruce's expression grew concerned. "Is something wrong?" he asked. "If you need time to cool down, I can-"

"No," she adamantly corrected, giving his hand a gentle squeeze for emphasis. "That is in the past. What troubles me is…is…well…". Diana sighed, on the verge of breaking down. She took a deep, steadying breath, and then began to explain what happened several nights ago: the existential crisis as well as her emotional confrontation with her mother.

"Diana," Bruce began, looking at her seriously. "I'm so sorry to have put you in that place."

"No, Bruce," Diana corrected, shaking her head. "Your reasons were pure, even if the delivery wasn't. That it is what matters. The most honeyed words mean nothing if they are spoken from a place of spite."

It was obvious whose 'honeyed words' Diana spoke of. The message was clear: don't blame yourself, blame my mother.

Bruce wisely decided to avoid discussing their mutual antagonist any longer. "Diana, is that really how I made you feel? Is that how I came off to you? That you can't be Myrmidon anymore?"

Diana shot him a half confused, half angry glare. Wasn't that what he had just told her, and she had already forgiven him for? How dare he reverse that decision now.

Aware of her thoughts, Bruce went on. "Because that's not what I meant. I simply said you couldn't do that in _Gotham_ anymore." He reached into a pocket and slipped a folded piece of paper across the table.

"Bruce, I don't...what is this?" she asked, unfolding the paper to reveal a long string of random numbers, letters, and symbols.

"It's the updated encryption code for the cave's pad," he stated, beaming.

Diana's eyes widened. Then, she looked up and chuckled beautifully as understanding dawned on her. "Goddess, I've been such an overly emotional fool, Bruce."

"It's perfectly understandable. You've been through a lot lately," Bruce replied seriously.

"I was ready to 'work' with you, but that doesn't necessarily mean…"

"I suppose not, but it should be your decision. It's time for you to be the judge of your own skills. I barely had to teach you my techniques."

"You defeated me in combat," she replied evenly.

"I exploited your weakness, and even then, it was completely by accident. I got lucky."

"You held back."

"So did you. Point is, on even footing with the same equipment, we are equals. I should have recognized that long ago. You deserve your own city to protect, your own role in the League."

"I…thank you, Bruce," she said, smiling sweetly at him. "This means more than you can know."

The couple stared at one another for a few moments, enjoying the presence of each other. Bruce eventually broke the silence. "There was one more thing I wanted to mention."

"Oh?" she asked.

"You've been working too hard. All this stress…you deserve some time to relax."

"What did you have in mind?" Diana asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Our relationship so far has been…extremely passionate," Bruce began. "Though I'm certainly not complaining, of course."

"I should hope so," Diana responded cheekily. "You belong in my bed."

"As true as that is," Bruce chuckled, "it occurs to me that after all this time, there is so much I don't know about you. How about we have a nice talk over dinner tonight?"

"I'd love nothing more," Diana responded. It was obvious that she was telling the truth. "Where at?"

"A Japanese place, the best in town. I'm sure you'll love it."

"Interesting. I have never sampled that kind of cuisine before. It should be fun."

"Good. I'll pick you up after work, then," Bruce responded as he stood up to leave.

* * *

"Bruce?" Diana asked, perplexed at the tray of food their waiter had just set on the table before them.

"Yes?"

"This is raw fish."

He laughed deeply, a booming baritone sound. "It's supposed to be. That's what sashimi is."

"Are you sure this is safe to eat?" she asked, grimacing slightly.

"I wouldn't let you eat it if it wasn't, trust me," Bruce said, grabbing a slice of salmon with his chopsticks and plopping it in his mouth. He savored the fish for some time before swallowing. "My, the catch is magnificent today."

Diana hesitantly copied him. "On Themiscyra, we eat…ate…fish quite frequently. But never _raw,_ " she said somewhat skeptically.

"Look if, you don't like it, you don't have to eat the rest. They have all kinds of dishes here we can get instead. However, I'll be shocked if you don't love it. Everyone else I've gotten to try it has, even the most stubborn."

Diana cautiously placed the slice of orange-white striped fish into her mouth. As she began to chew, her taste buds exploded into an orgy of delicious sensation. She moaned in satisfaction as she savored this new but amazing taste.

"Wow…" she whispered after finally swallowing. She laughed softly. "You were right, that IS good. I want more…"

Bruce chuckled again as Diana urgently reached for another piece. "I'd hate to say I told you so, but…" Bruce said.

"In this sole instance, your bragging is well-" Diana started, but stopped abruptly. Why did Bruce sound so different? It suddenly hit her: he was fluently speaking the Themiscryan dialect of ancient Greek.

She looked up from her food to stare at him in bewilderment. What she saw was one of his trademark smirks.

"How?" she asked, incredulous.

"Damian stole a few books—dictionaries and the like-from your libraries while we were there to rescue you. My studies with traditional ancient Greek were enough for me to slowly reverse engineer your language."

"That still doesn't answer my question," Diana replied, still awestruck. "How did you learn a whole language so quickly?"

"Because I'm the godamn Batman," Bruce answered confidently.

Diana met his intense gaze for a few seconds. The stare-off didn't last that long before both erupted into a fit of belly laughter.

"Goddess, Bruce, I needed that," Diana said, still shaking with laughter as she wiped a tear from her eye.

Bruce shrugged. "I figured that you might appreciate having some piece of your home left, however trivial. Besides, now we can talk openly without worrying about anyone overhearing."

"I appreciate this. More than you know," Diana said, clearly touched. "Thank you."

"You are very welcome, Princess."

Just then, the waiter arrived with the bottle of sake that Bruce had ordered. He quickly poured one for himself, and then one for her.

"To forging our own paths!" Diana toasted.

"Indeed. And to a wonderful relationship, as volatile as it may be at times," Bruce added.

They downed their drinks and returned merrily to their delicious food, savoring both the excellent meal as well as each other's fine company.

* * *

Hippolyta raised a pair of binoculars to her eyes. She could see the two of them through the glass of a window, having a pleasant conversation and eating strange food. No doubt he sought to ply her with superficial charm and a fancy evening purchased with the ill-gotten gains of his exploitative, industrialized mega-corporation.

Bruce was what was wrong with man's world. And that was why she was here tonight; to fix that problem.

The Amazonian queen couldn't read lips, but she could read people. He and Diana seemed to be having an enjoyable time. In another context, she might have thought they were just another 'happy' couple of man's world.

That was exactly why she needed to put a stop to this. Sure, it would hurt Diana…but her feisty daughter would get over it, and be better off in the long run. Maybe she'd even run back into her mother's arms, seeking comfort.

Hippolyta shuffled uncomfortably on the rough ground of the building's rooftop. The realization that jealousy was a big part her motivation gave her pause. It was something that merited more consideration. Luckily, she'd have time; it looked like Bruce and Diana would be there for a while.

As the queen continued her stakeout, her mind grappled with the morality of the course of action she was considering. If it was jealousy which drove her, could she really claim to be objective? Was it fair to enact such a permanent punishment based on the premise that she knew what was best for Diana, or was she merely rationalizing her behavior?

 _No,_ Hippolyta eventually decided. _Regardless of how biased my perspective might be as her mother, I know in my heart that men and amazons don't belong together. Perhaps it doesn't entirely excuse what I plan on doing to him tonight, but sometimes_ _the lesser of two evils is the better option._

She shook her head. Communing with the five (or, technically, four, now that the goddesses had splintered into two factions) had revealed the same information. It didn't matter what she thought. It didn't matter what reservations she might have. It was the will of the goddesses, and it conformed to the doctrines of her people.

Hippolyta didn't relish the thought of killing any man. Given the choice, she'd refuse to. That was why she'd been firmly in support of stopping Aresia. Man's world was corrupted, yes, but this corruption was so deep-seated that any individual man could hardly be blamed for his evil. It was a problem much grander in scope than simply killing all men, especially when doing so would result in the extinction of the human species.

Except Hippolyta didn't have a choice. As distasteful as it might seem, and as unfair it was to both Diana and Bruce, it was still the right call. Diana needed this, needed to be free of him. Moreover, defiling her people's princess (her own daughter!) was a crime that could not go unanswered.

Hippolyta sighed and checked the tautness of her bowstring.

* * *

"That reminds me," Diana said, "I heard you say, 'who guards the guardians' to Oliver at the press conference after the Luthor incident."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "What can I say, I like Plato."

Diana nodded. After being grilled about life on Themiscyra, she had changed the subject to philosophy, politics, history, and Greek mythology. It was an area she was well-versed in, and as such, it had been a very lively and enjoyable conversation (still in Themiscyran, of course—Bruce Wayne couldn't seem too smart publicly). Bruce was an extremely well-read person as well. His knowledge about those topics was almost as good as hers. She'd found it extremely difficult to catch him off guard with a piece of knowledge or outmatch him rhetorically.

In fact, that was the exact reason she had brought up his quoting of _The Republic_. Diana had an ulterior motive.

Most likely due to the fact that she and Bruce had been sipping sake all evening (which was a lot more fun than she'd thought it be; one upside of losing her powers was that it didn't take absurd amounts of alcohol to get her drunk anymore) Diana was positively giddy. She raised another glass to her lips to conceal a smirk.

Bruce, the ever-observant detective, picked up on it anyway. It was hardly surprising. He raised another eyebrow again. "Something funny about that?"

Diana shook her head, barely able to prevent an all-out laugh from escaping. The truth was, there was something incredibly ironic about Bruce quoting those words. He obviously didn't get it. That was what was so hilarious; she finally knew something the omniscient Batman didn't.

"You're a terrible liar," Bruce said, bemused.

"Ok fine," Diana acquiesced, then took a shot. Blinking away the head rush that passed over her awareness, she continued. "There is something funny about you saying _'quis custodiet ipsos custodies'."_

"Oh, do tell," Bruce asked, scooting forward, smirking arrogantly. He found it hard to believe that Diana could possibly tell him something he didn't know. It was an extension of his eternal goal of proving himself just as capable as any immortal or superhero. There were other arenas than physical combat, after all.

"The irony is, Bruce," Diana replied, leaning forward. She did it a little clumsily due to her buzz. "…when you say that," (her voice swapped to a low whisper), "you're not quoting who you think you are."

Bruce screwed up his face in consternation. "That's enough sake for you, then. I clearly underestimated your constitution, Miss Prince. Frankly, it's a little disheartening to know that the former Wonder Woman can't hold her liquor," he teased.

Diana shrugged. "It's a little disheartening to know that the famous Batman is ignorant about so many things when it comes to the greatest philosopher of all time," she shot back. "For instance, Plato was a very intelligent man…but his writing skills were abysmal. He struggled to accurately summarize many of his complex arguments, and required outside help doing so."

Bruce was confused for approximately two seconds as he watched Diana giggling across the table. Then, it hit him like a ton of bricks. His jaw fell open as his mind reeled from the implications. "No, it can't be," he whispered incredulously.

Diana evidently found this hilarious, because she rocked backwards, a belly laugh erupting from her. Bruce continued to stare as she eventually recovered.

"Oh, but it is," she gloated.

Bruce composed himself. "Diana, if you expect me to believe _that_ just because you were alive at the time," he began.

"The look on your face was priceless," she interrupted. "But no, I'm not playing a joke on you. It's true."

"You expect me to believe that you not only knew Plato personally, and were also the first to ask 'who guards the guardians'?"

Diana nodded solemnly. "I swear on Aphrodite herself. Besides, I was an archon of truth for two years. You said it yourself; I'm a bad liar. You would know if I was."

Damn. She was perfectly right.

"How was that even possible?" Bruce asked. "You didn't leave the island until…"

Diana shook her head. "Not true. There came a time that I decided to be rebellious. I wanted to see man's world on my own. Back then Themiscrya was located very close to Greece itself, so I simply took a ship."

"And then what happened?"

Diana grinned again. "That depends on how much you're willing to make it up to me. Convince me of your supplication, and I may deign to grant your request."

"Here's another idea; I could stop signing your paychecks, and I could leave you to pay the bill for this extravagant dinner."

"Point taken," Diana said. She proceeded to tell Bruce about her experiences two-thousand years ago in man's world, how she'd came to meet Plato, and how she'd helped him write most of _The Republic_.

"Although many scholars call him an early feminist, albeit a poor one by today's standards, they fail to understand the context of Plato's society. Had he written about his real opinion of women, people would have laughed him out of Athens. He didn't want to go the way of his mentor, Socrates, either. And so, he pretended to think women inferior to men for the sake of his audience. In secret, though, we were good friends. Plato was the only man to treat me like an equal. The laws forbade me from engaging in public debates, but he would return to me with notes and a written summary of what had been said. This sparked the idea in his mind of compiling a book. While helping him write it, I suggested the phrase 'who guards the guardians' to summarize his point. Liking the idea, he wrote in a fictional male character (for again, including me or another female character in the book would have prevented him from being taken seriously) into the book who asks this question of Socrates. The rest, as they say, is history."

Bruce shook his head slowly. "What did I do to deserve you? You're a fascinating woman, Diana. The things you must have seen in five millenniums of life…"

"Don't you forget it, either," Diana said playfully. "If you're good to me, I might just decide to tell you more."

"I'd love that," Bruce said. "But I think we had better be leaving. The sun will set soon, and I thought we could go for a walk in my favorite park before dark."

"Mhm…romantic," Diana said. "I'm seeing a different side of you…and I think I like it. A lot," she said, whispering the last part into his ear as he helped her buzzed self out of the restaurant booth.

* * *

Unbeknownst to either of the couple, a blonde-haired shadow stalked them as they made their way across the city and to the park.

* * *

"I'm so stuffed," Diana complained with satisfaction.

"And here I thought Japanese food was weird," Bruce said, taking her hand in his.

"Oh, it is. Doesn't mean it's not delicious, though. That, um…what was it? Unagi? Yes, the unagi was amazing. And so were most of those rolls…ooh, and all that fried seafood, too."

Bruce chuckled. "I have to agree with you there. Japanese food is the best."

Diana nodded emphatically. "Thank you for insisting on showing me. I really should be learning more about the world's cultures."

"Their cultures? Our just their cuisine and alcohol?"

Diana pouted, putting a finger to her lip pensively. "Yes."

"Hah. I love you, Diana Prince," Bruce said, wrapping a muscled arm around her waist and pulling her close. It was partly out of concern for her balance (having a significant amount of alcohol in her system), and partly for the obvious reason.

"I love you too," she replied, looking up at him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

They strolled on in silence, simply enjoying the refreshing night air, the clean scents of nature, the beautiful park as it was framed by the setting sun, and, of course, the nearness of their soul mate.

Just as they were nearing a wooded area with lots of trees, an icy breeze passed by, causing Diana to shiver profusely. All she has on was a red dress that was somehow casual, elegant, and revealing all in one, along with a pair of black high heels.

"Here," Bruce said, removing his leather jacket.

"Oh no, I couldn't…" Diana protested.

"Shhhh. Your proud, amazon dignity will remain intact long enough to stay warm instead of freezing to death," Bruce scolded.

Diana shivered again. Why did he always have to have a point? "Okay," she said, taking the toasty-warm jacket and wrapping it about herself. It looked comical on her much thinner frame. "I just feel bad. Here you must give up your warmth for me, who was too much of a fool to gauge her newfound susceptibility to cold after losing her magic powers. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Bruce replied.

"That's cheesy and old," Diana said.

"You love it."

"I do," Diana said, cuddling up against Bruce again. "Promise you won't ever stop saying it. It's just so…you. It reminds me of our first kiss."

"That moment was the first time I felt happy for years," Bruce confessed. There was no bitterness in his tone.

Diana didn't reply. She didn't need to. His unspoken implication was obvious. Instead, she was content with silence between inseparable lovers. If Diana had to choose one moment to live over and over again, forever, this instant would be her choice. It was perfect.

She wanted more moments like this. As many as she could possibly have with Bruce. And, Diana knew, she'd do anything, pay any price, make any sacrifice, in order to have that opportunity.

Nothing would take Bruce away from her.

* * *

Hippolyta trembled with indecision. Her daughter looked so happy, and even Bruce's feelings seemed authentic. Tartarus, he'd even offered her his jacket. A simple, trivial gesture. Still, the queen knew that small signs could reveal deeper feelings. And then there was the fact that she'd overheard a great deal of their conversation as the couple had passed underneath the tall tree in which she'd set up her sniper's nest.

Goddesses…the man really seemed to care, to truly value Diana. For once, Hippolyta actually felt physically ill about her intentions. Had she gotten it all wrong?

Maybe. Maybe not. Assuming it were true, it only made her task harder. All in all, it was still the right call. Perhaps it would even haunt her dreams for an eternity.

A small price to pay for protecting her daughter.

Besides, she told herself, even if Bruce did venerate Diana, it was only as an object. He clearly only cared for her insofar as she was something he could control and manipulate and use. Not as a real person with agency.

Yes, that was it. That had to be it.

Now was the time for action, Hippolyta knew. This was an excellent opportunity, the likes of which it might take a long time for her to get again. The firing lane was clear. Bruce was alone with Diana. He wasn't wearing a Batsuit and did not expect an attack. The evening was darkening.

"I'm so sorry," Hippolyta said, knocking an arrow on her magical war bow. She blinked a tear out of her eye as she drew a bead on Bruce, levelling an arrow straight for his heart.

* * *

Diana turned to whisper something in Bruce's ear. They had stopped walking, and were merely standing in the middle of the path. She wasn't leaning on him now, and so she needed to turn her head to make sure her words were private.

"I think that…" she began.

Wait. Maybe it was just her alcohol induced imagination, but Diana could swear she heard something in the distance behind her. Something ominous.

Bruce was distracted, checking his smart phone. "Hrm?" he muttered.

Police, company, or personal business, she assumed. Best not to disturb him.

Diana cocked her head slightly, trying to recall the exact nature of the sound. It was intimately familiar, yet somehow out of place in this situation. Could it really be…

With a shock, the exiled princess knew what it was. She also knew that if she was right, there was no time to call out a warning. Balance of probability said the archer was likely aiming for Bruce.

Her reaction was primal. Diana barely even thought about it. Before she even knew what she was doing, she was shoving Bruce with all her might. Without her powers, her physical strength was no match for his. Under ordinary circumstances, she would never have been able to throw him down to the ground. These were not ordinary circumstances, though. Enraged with protectiveness, adrenaline empowered her body beyond the limits of a normal woman.

Bruce fell easily, his intense training kicking in. He struck the ground gracefully and rolled back to prevent injury.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Diana wasn't paying attention. Her massive heave had put her off-balance. While her original intention was to tackle Bruce and collapse with him, the dual combination of panic and alcohol dulled her articulation.

Instead, she stumbled into the space where Bruce had just been standing.

* * *

Hippolyta narrowed her eyes, focusing her gaze on Bruce's heart. She was so intent on him that Diana's movement went unnoticed.

The spiteful queen unleashed the arrow. It sailed menacingly through the air, unerringly seeking the destruction of its target.

The arrow struck home…

…but not in its intended target.

* * *

Bruce's vision swam. Maybe he was more buzzed than he cared to admit. Sloppy of him. As a result, it took him more than a split second to gain his bearings. He saw Diana stumbling towards his prone body.

"What the-" he tried to say.

He was cut off by a streak which hit Diana in her side. She spun with the force of the blow. Crimson sprayed the air around her, staining the scene in lifeblood.

"DIANA!" Bruce roared at the top of his lungs. By the time he was standing, she'd hit the ground face-up.

He rushed over and crouched. Diana was soaked in blood, and an arrow bisected her upper torso from right to left, emerging somewhere on her back. She moaned slightly in pain, head lolling dizzily from side-to-side.

Bruce felt his heart wrench. It felt like he was eight again, kneeling in the detritus of that alleyway. Diana's body seemed to spread out before him like his mother's. His entire world swam with a dreamlike quality.

"Bruce…" Diana moaned weakly. Her voice blended with Martha Wayne's like two overlapping, angelic audio tracks in the middle of a nightmarish cacophony.

Bruce cradled Diana…or was it his mom? He was dimly aware of both realities. It was infinite sorrow folding on itself, a horror so mind-shreddingly depraved that it insisted on echoing itself through the decades, relentlessly bearing down on Bruce as if insisting he plunge into the abyss of madness.

Blood transferred to Bruce's own body, but he didn't care or notice. "Diana? Please, no, this can't…" he begged, not considering the possibility that the archer might simply decide to finish the job. "I can't…"

Miraculously, Diana somehow conjured the will to move her left arm: the one that wasn't skewered by an arrow. Her gentle and powerful hands cupped his face. Despite the grim situation, she smiled.

"I regret…nothing," she whispered, and then was interrupted by a fit of spitting up blood. "Don't die…another kind of…death, Bruce. For me." Diana's voice was hoarse and weak. Her eyes fluttered at the conclusion of the sentence, then closed. Her body went limp and collapsed.

Bruce felt like throwing up, raging against the universe which seemed to so callously despise him, or retreating into catatonia. He did none of these things. With a titanic will that could defy insanity, magic, gods, and death, he ripped himself free from the cocoon of pain that shrouded his mind.

He shot a hand to her neck. There was a pulse. It was a slow one, but it was enough. There was hope. Diana might still be saved. Bruce wasn't eight again. He wasn't in the alley, and Diana was not Martha Wayne. He wasn't Bruce at all…he had never been, not since that day. No, he was Batman…and now he could save the ones the loved.

Bruce began treating her has best he could while scrambling for his cell phone. He located it on the dirty ground. His fingers dialed 911 in an instant.

As soon as he got the operator, Bruce was yelling at her to help. The woman on the other end of the line repeatedly affirmed that help was on its way and that someone had already reported the shooting. Bruce didn't care. Eventually, he gave up, tossing the cellphone to the side.

It would be risky to move her, but it was the only feasible option. Diana was suffering massive internal bleeding. If there was to be any chance of saving her, she needed to get to a hospital as soon as physically possible.

Bruce cradled his dying lover in his arms and sprinted as fast as he dared in the direction of the park's entrance.

 **Author's Notes: *sniff* I actually did cry a little while writing this. I know you think I'm some sort of sadist, but there it is. I'm human, despite all evidence to the contrary.**

 **Updates incoming, I promise.**


	20. Chapter 20

The heart rate monitor beeped steadily. Bruce knew he should've felt relieved to hear it. Perhaps on some deep, inner level, he was. But for now, all he could think about was how the chirps seemed to mock him, to make a joke out of his life, to taunt him about the universe's cruel, arbitrary treatment of everything that he loved and cared for.

Even now he could feel his psyche sinking into that dark, tortured place where Batman was born. The only thing that stopped him from shutting down completely, from perhaps slipping into insanity, was the same piece of equipment that pierced his soul. As much as it functioned as a reminder of his cursed nature in life, it paradoxically served as a beacon of hope. For as long as it continued its wretched yet beautiful rhythm, there was a sliver of hope to be had.

Bruce sighed, utterly exhausted. The mad scramble to save Diana, flowed by the ambulance ride over to Gotham General hospital was nothing but a massive blur of pain and desolation. The hours upon hours waiting for Diana to get out of surgery had ticked by at a maddeningly slow pace. It was an experience eclipsed in trauma only by the death of his parents, for at least in this tragedy there was hope for her survival, even if it was only a slim chance. Still, the uncertainty had gnawed at his heart.

Alfred, who had rushed to his side immediately upon hearing about the incident, had managed to provide poor consolation. Beyond Bruce's broken-sounding phone call and a few other scant words, he had barely spoken the entire time. Starring into space was all he had managed to do. Bruce faintly remembered the faithful butler offering a few words of support, but that had been all, and they had been ignored. The older man was wise enough to realize that there was little he could say that would console the distraught billionaire.

It was the ultimate irony, Bruce thought for perhaps the one-thousandth time that evening, that despite all of his obscene wealth, bulging IQ, obsessive will, and perfect crime-fighting abilities, he still couldn't have the one thing he both craved and feared: people who were close to him. Also not for the first time, he seriously questioned if getting involved with her had been the right choice. At the time, it had been an overflowing of passion and desire.

Now it seemed like a massive mistake. He should've known something like this would happen. It was an inevitability. Someone had come after him, possibly for either one of his personas, and Diana had been the victim. She should've let him die. He should've been better, smarter, had more willpower. He deserved this pain for being such an incompetent fool.

"It's my fault," he mumbled, stroking Diana's limp hand with one of his own.

"Master Bruce, you can't think that way."

Bruce slowly turned to face the Butler. "I can. I will. Because it's true," he said with pure authority, his face a twisted mask of haunted ruination.

Alfred sighed. It was no use arguing. All he could do was try to be Bruce's voice of reason. As futile as that goal might be, he owed it to the man to at least try. Bruce was blaming himself. Perhaps he was even right to do so. Alfred had been a staunch supporter of the lonely vigilante finding a loving companion.

Now, though, he questioned if Bruce had been right all along. There was no way he could suffer through this again. What might he become if the worst should happen and Diana succumbed to her injury? Gotham needed Batman. As dark as Bruce was in that persona, it was a necessary evil. How much darker might his soul become, though, if history repeated itself? Even someone possessing Bruce's legendary mental strength could only suffer much before falling into the abyss. And, Alfred added grimly, Batman had dodged this abyss many times before. Luck could only take a person so far. He was bound to slip eventually. Regardless of his personal feelings, Alfred decided nothing was more important than striving to prevent that from happening.

"I was weak," Bruce lamented.

Alfred frowned, staring daggers into the dejected man's back. "No. You were strong. You knew this might happen and you did what you knew was right anyway."

Bruce wheeled on him. "Is THAT," Bruce growled, pointing a finger at Diana's unconscious body lying in the hospital bed, "what you call 'right'?"

Alfred shook his head slowly. "You know that isn't what I meant, Bruce."

"Do I, Alfred? Do I really? Because that's what it sounds like," Bruce said, leaping to his feet.

"Deep down, I know you accept the truth of my words," Alfred said, rising from his own chair. "I know it hurts, but you need to take off that mask of rage. You need to take a breath and think."

Bruce blinked. His butler was right. He breathed deeply and managed to calm down a little.

Alfred stepped forward, putting a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "If there's two things that define you, it's that you accept the cold, hard truth no matter what, and that you do what is right regardless of the cost. And the truth is, Bruce…you're only human. Call being with her a mistake if you will, but it was bound to happen. You drove yourself to the edge of oblivion. Nothing is certain, but I suspect you would've eventually fallen in without her. Besides, after all you've been through, you deserve to be happy. It WAS the right call, even if this-" Alfred pointed to Diana, "—was a foul evil."

Bruce was silent. Alfred's passionate speech hung in the air, ringing inside both men's ears. Although he didn't show it, Alfred could somehow read through Bruce's eyes that some part of him understood and accepted the validity of his words. He didn't say anything or show it externally, but Alfred knew it. After all, if there was one thing the Batman must not do, what he could not do, was admit that he was human after all.

Bruce turned back and sat down purposefully. He took Diana's hand again and began stroking it gently. Alfred took his own seat once more, resuming his watchful vigil. It was not a vigil for Diana. No, she'd never need another keeper again, not with Batman's black shadow of vengeance looming over all who would threaten—successfully or not—to harm her.

Alfred was here to look out for Bruce. It was he who guarded the guardian.

An indeterminate amount of time passed. It could have been minutes or an hour. Time was ephemeral, and it seemed a small price to pay compared to the permanency of death.

A quiet knock shattered the scene. Both men looked up to a nurse opening the door. "Mr. Wayne?" she asked tentatively. The room was dark, and the silver light of the moon through the window seemed to create a mask that covered all but the man's jawline, chin and neck.

"Yes?" he replied.

"A woman is here to see miss Prince. She says she's Diana's mother, and that you could vouch for her. We have no documentation proving a familial match, you see."

"Describe her."

The nurse shuddered. It seemed as if his voice carried enough raw conviction in it to mold reality itself to his will. She found herself obeying instantly.

"Long, blonde hair. Above average stature, but still beautiful. Her ID says she's 43, but doesn't look a day past 23."

Bruce nodded. "That's her. Send her in."

"Yes, Mr. Wayne," the woman answered timidly.

Alfred raised an eyebrow once she was gone. "I'm surprised that you acquiesced. To think you'd suffer being the same room as her, as someone who tried to kill you…" he said, shivering.

Bruce shrugged. "I don't care. All I care about is Diana. She does too, in her own, twisted way. I don't know how she learned about it, but she's got to be just as devastated. I won't keep a grieving mother from her child. Diana wouldn't want that."

Alfred nodded, measurably proud of his once-ward. "Indeed, sir."

Hippolyta was ushered into the room by the same nurse soon enough. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying. Dried tears could still be seen coating parts of her cheeks. Her hair was ruffled and unkempt. Her cheeks were pale as if in shock. The faint smell of vomit could be discerned, though there was no physical trace of it anywhere on her.

It was the very picture of a woman distraught.

"The doctor will be here to talk to you both soon," the nurse said. When there was no reply, she awkwardly bowed her head and left them alone.

No words were exchanged. Not at first. Just a two-on-one starring contest.

Then, Hippolyta spoke with a trembling voice. "Gentlemen." It was all she said.

Neither man replied, just kept starring daggers at her. Hippolyta ignored them and sat down on the opposite side of the hospital bed. She stroked Diana's arm softly. She was a little cold, but not overly so. Hippolyta remarked on this.

"The results of the blood transfusions," Bruce commented. "And shock.

Hippolyta found the thought of Diana receiving blood from another person, who was potentially a man, rather disturbing. Not that she had illusions about what kind of masculine parts had been inside her already. Still, if it saved her life, she supposed it was worth it.

More disturbing than this was the fact that it was her fault for causing Diana to lose so much blood and need the transfusions in the first place. Hippolyta honestly didn't know if she could maintain her composure, especially when the doctor began explaining the results of the surgery, an inventory of the damage done, and chances of survival.

Batman was the world's greatest detective. There was a chance he could figure it out. Come to think of it, the odds were low he wouldn't. Would she even put up a fight? If he snapped her neck, then didn't she deserve it for doing _this_ to her own progeny?

Hippolyta couldn't answer that question. Whatever conflict may yet come, now was the time to focus on Diana.

"I'm so sorry, my little sun and stars," Hippolyta whispered. "I shouldn't have let this happen. Done something different. It's all my fault."

"It's both our faults," Bruce said. "We danced for her, and look what happened. Exiled, and the victim of an attack meant for me."

"Yes," the Queen intoned softly. "I came as soon as Hermes informed me about what had happened." She focused on being as stone-faced as possible.

There was nothing more to say. Each hated the other as much as they hated themselves for letting this happen.

Hippolyta continued to caress Diana, Bruce doing the same on the other side. Two watchful protectors who had failed in their duty. One more than the other.

Another knock. This time it was a man dressed in a lab coat and carrying a clipboard. "Excuse me. I'm Doctor Foreman, the surgeon who operated on Miss Prince."

Bruce stood and grasped his hand earnestly. "Thank you, doctor. I can't express my gratitude enough."

"Neither can I," Hippolyta said, standing with a nod. She wiped a tear from her eye. "Will my daughter be alight?"

Dr. Foreman sighed. "I'm not going to lie to you, ma'am; the truth is, I don't know. These types of injuries can be touch and go."

Bruce frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked, though he already knew full well what the doctor was going to say, having done his own medical deductions.

"In case the nurses didn't tell you, the arrow that pierced her body struck her right arm, shattering it in several places. The pierced arteries from that caused a massive amount of blood loss. Unfortunately, that's not where it ends. It ricocheted off the bone and diverted to her sternum, where it narrowly avoided missing her heart and aorta by about an inch. We stopped the massive internal bleeding and gave her several blood transfusions. Miss Prince is safe from blood loss, as well as infection. Still, she has quite a few broken bones, bruised organs, and weak tissue around the heart. We can keep monitoring her, but when a person's body endures that much damage, sometimes everything just shuts down from shock. It'll be a long road to recovery, but with any luck, her heart will endure long enough to get her there. In the meantime, we'll keep her sedated for her own good. And comfort."

Hippolyta collapsed into the chair again. She was sobbing now, covering her face with her palms as she turned away from the doctor. "Goddesses…" she choked out.

"I'm truly sorry," Dr. Foreman replied, putting a hand on her shoulder. Hippolyta flinched, but didn't care. She had bigger things to worry about than the audacity of a man to put his hands on her. Especially when it was the man who saved her daughter.

Bruce nodded. He looked the doctor straight in the eyes. "Thank you for being honest. And for pulling her through this. Seriously. You need anything, you let me know."

"Mr. Wayne, that won't…I mean the bill will…I was just doing…"

Bruce was shaking his head. "Nonsense," he said, putting on a slight grin he didn't feel. "I owe you everything."

"Will do, Mr. Wayne. I'm just happy to help, though." Dr. Foreman took Bruce's hand, which shook his vigorously. "It's a shame, what happened. We don't see things like this anymore. Whoever could do such a thing…" he went on, shaking his head. "My prayers are with all three of you."

"Thank you, doctor," Hippolyta replied through her waterfall of tears.

Dr. Foreman nodded again. "Here's my personal number. Call me anytime. The nurses will do what they can, too. This hospital stands with you, Wayne, even if I must barge into the CEO's office myself. It's the least I can do for all the people you helped us save."

"Thanks again," Bruce said.

"You're welcome. Just try to stay positive. She can make it, I know she can, Mr. Wayne. Ma'am," he said before bowing out of the room.

Bruce sat again, watching Diana's motionless form and Hippolyta's sobbing. As much as he couldn't tolerate the queen's presence, he refused to abandon Diana. It wasn't like he could get any sleep anyway. His thoughts were here in the hospital. His world, his passion, his humanity itself, all of them lay in that bed, clinging precariously to life.

Without her, he was just a shell. Yet it was fate he'd gladly endure if it was possible to trade for Diana's survival.

* * *

Many hours later, once Hippolyta had passed out in her chair and Alfred had returned to the mansion, Bruce still waited, alone and wide awake.

The upside of this situation was that he'd had plenty of time to think. His mind had traced every path of reasoning he could fathom. Blame. Guilt. Pain. Bargaining. Planning. All of it was useless.

At length, Bruce arrived at a simple truth. There was one path still open to him, all others having stopped at dead ends inside his brain. It was one he never tread, but decided to follow anyway. His need was that great.

That path was faith.

Bruce didn't believe in a god. At least not any of the traditional ones. He knew from personal experience, though, that beings which one might classify as such did indeed exist. This was a fact his intellectual and logical mind could not deny. The evidence existed that these metahumans were not only immeasurably powerful, but occasionally granted requests if one's devotion and need was great enough.

That's why Bruce did the one thing he never thought he'd ever do again, not since he was eight years old.

He prayed.

It wasn't to some vague, unknowable cosmic entity. It was to a specific woman that he identified by name. It was the only creature that he was sure cared anymore and had the ability to help.

"Aphrodite," Bruce whispered, pouring every ounce of his will into the invocation. "I know that you have no reason to like me. I know that I'm an enemy of your people. I am not one of yours. But Diana is. She tells me that she trusts you and that you're on our side. I don't know if that's true, but I have faith in Diana, if not in your pantheon."

Bruce cleared his throat, licked his lips, and continued. "I don't hold any illusions that I can lie to a deity. So, I'll tell you that I'm terrified of being alone again. I need her. If you don't care about that, then do this for her. Diana doesn't deserve this. Please, lend her what aid you can. Save your champion, your true champion. If anyone ever lived that deserved it more, I don't know of them."

Bruce looked up, prayer concluded. He stared at Diana and the various machines which monitored her vitals.

Nothing changed.

Bruce grit his teeth and clenched his fists. What a fool he was, to think something so childish and silly could work. How could he possibly have forgotten the most important lesson he had ever learned: that he was alone in this world. There was nothing to count on other than his own wit and steely determination to impose his justice on the world.

If her gods couldn't even save her, what chance did he have? No, there was only one thing that he could do.

Bruce stormed angrily out of the room. Diana needed a compassionate healer. In the absence of such, the vengeful avatar of night itself would have to do.

Whatever may happen, Bruce swore the archer would be met their justice.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Bruce and the sleeping amazon queen, the dark knight's prayers were indeed answered. From the realm of the goddesses that lay beyond the veil of the mortal realm, from Olympus itself, not one, but two feminine voices sang down to the earth.

Their invisible song struggled briefly against the weight of three others, just as they had done for quite some time. Bruce's prayer, unbeknownst to him, reached out to their song and forged a bridge, its composition rendered utterly indestructible by his unconquerable will.

Gifted with a channel supplied from the mortal realm, the two goddesses were now able to send their magic unmolested by the barrier between worlds and their rival's superior might.

As their healing traveled along that bridge, the wrath of three others slammed against it, tidal waves of triplicated godly power.

The bridge held. It was unbowed, refusing to acquiesce with an intensity that had never been seen before, especially not to the egomaniacal higher beings. Their fury multiplied, their effort redoubling until their frantic attacks became powerful enough to shatter worlds.

As the waves continued to rain down upon it, now with increased strength, the construct turned blacker than the deepest depths of infinite Tartarus. The silhouette of an equally dark bat appeared over it. A sonic shriek issued from its mouth as it tore into the waves, impossibly vicious in its desperate defense of the one and only passageway to Earth for those healing songs. The bat-shadow clawed and bit and slashed and continued to scream, beating back the goddesses slowly but surely. Their waves were reduced to nothing but tiny splashes.

Yet the bat spirit did not possess infinite endurance, not like the three goddesses did. Eventually it tired and began to dissipate from the trauma of the savage battle. The goddesses won.

To their dismay, though, the three were two late. Even as the bridge began to lose its opacity and fade from existence, the healing songs made their way successfully to Earth. The bat had bought the two enough time.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the silent and dark hospital room, nothing so dramatic occurred. Moments slipped by in apparent disregard for the crazed battle.

Something did happen, though. It was a barely perceptible change that was also profound in its significance.

The machine which measured Diana's heartbeats began to thrum just a little faster. The panel which displayed her blood cell count began to show a marked increase. Her vitals spiked and her skin warmed to a healthy temperature.

Had a doctor been standing in the room at that exact moment, they would have marveled at the sudden reversal of her condition. While not strictly impossible, her rapidly improving health was nothing short of an improbable miracle.

Still more things began to happen which the machines could not monitor and science could not explain. Diana's cells began to divide twice as fast, exponentially increasing her rate of healing and recovery from the grievous wound. Her immune system multiplied in sophistication for seemingly no reason. Her skin some became many times more molecularly dense in a way that broke the laws of physics.

Her body would now do in weeks what it would normally have taken months to accomplish.

Diana's brain activity surged back as well, removing her partially from the coma as the drugs were no longer of a high enough dose to keep her totally sedated. Vaguely, she was aware that some measure of her blessings were soaking back into her body.

She didn't know why or how, but she mentally praised Aphrodite before slipping back into the static of sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

The night air was frigid. The skyline was bleak and dark, oppressively so. It was par for the course during winter in Gotham. Jim Gordon didn't care, though; he needed to be here on the rooftop of the GCPD building.

It wasn't a work thing. Well, not technically, anyway. He was here because he wanted to be; needed to be. For both their sakes.

Gordon shivered, and it wasn't just from the biting chill. Lighting a cigarette and pulling his coat tighter around his body, he attempted to ward off the cold.

He did not have to wait long. Within minutes of turning on the bright spotlight, an inky black swirl of shadow impacted the roof. Gordon switched the beacon off just as quickly.

At first, no one said anything. When Gordon eventually realized that he was going to have to start the conversation, he took a deep breath. "Batman. You know why I called you here."

There was no response.

"Look, I get it," the commissioner said after taking a long drag and slowing blowing a stream of grey air up into the sky. "I know how you feel right now. I've been there. When Barbara…well, let's just say I was practically beside myself."

One member of pair of white lenses perked up inquisitively.

Gordon chuckled mirthlessly. "If it were anyone else I'd take the cold shoulder personally. But given that it's you I'm talking to, and what just happened, I think I can let it slide."

The humor went unappreciated.

"Well, it was worth a try," Jim said, taking another puff. "Look, I can tell you're busy and would rather be out there doing something practical, so I won't hold you up any further. I just want to tell you one thing. It's both a warning from the GCPD commissioner and a request from a friend."

The rustling of a gossamer gape flapping in the breeze was the only response he got.

"When you find this guy," Gordon said, flicking some ashes away, "…and I know you won't rest until you do," he added with sly raise of his eyebrows, "don't cross the line. I know it will be tempting, unbearably so. My god, the feeling of rage…what I wanted to do to the Joker…it was pure madness. Stopping myself was the hardest thing I ever did. But I resisted the temptation by reminding myself of my principles, oftentimes every minute of every day. And you know what? I'm glad I didn't give in."

Gordon paused, took a long drag that finished off the cigarette, and stamped it out. He crinkled his eyebrows and looked off at the metropolitan cityscape of Gotham. "Just something to think about. I don't want to have to tell you this, but as the commissioner, I can no longer sanction Batman if he crosses the line." He turned back and stared at the other man straight in the eyes. "And I won't cover it up or look the other way on this, either. Gotham deserves a better Batman than that kind. And if you won't do it for Gotham, won't do it for what's right…do it for me. I can't bear to see you go down that dark path. And if you don't care about me either, then please, just remember one thing: it's not what _they_ would have wanted. It's not what _she_ would want."

If intense looks and near-silent fluttering of capes was a language, Batman would be speaking volumes.

Gordon sighed. "Fine. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. Keep your silence. I just wanted you to hear all that." He abruptly turned on his heel and walked away, knowing that Batman had already departed with as much clamor as a ghost's shadow.

* * *

The park was dead silent. Empty, too. Not that it mattered. He could be invisible to the only other likely inhabitants of the park at this hour: thugs and drug dealers, if he so wished it.

Batman alighted on one of the large tree branches with ease. This had to be the location from which the shot had been taken, based off the trajectory of the projectile that he had mentally calculated with his photographic memory. The odds were good that the police hadn't been able to achieve that level of forensic insight. Archery-themed murder attempts were hardly a usual backdrop in Gotham, after all. Bullet wounds, stabbings, and bombs were things that the GCPD and local doctors understood. Anything exotic that required outside-of-the-box thinking fell under his purview.

In any case, there should still be undisturbed evidence at this spot which would give Batman a lead. There had to be something: finger prints, torn fabric, or possibly even a scrap of DNA.

After scanning the scene for several minutes, Batman picked up on the latter. It took the form of a collection of strands of hair that were embedded in the tree branches and leaves. Carefully, he bagged a couple of them.

Since that was all there was for him to find, Batman swiftly departed. There was no time to lose. Diana's attacker could be escaping at this very moment. For any possibility of enacting justice on the archer to exist, he needed to work at a breakneck pace.

It wasn't long before Batman was back in his car, placing the hair strands into a special receptacle. "Computer," he growled, voice sounding horribly deadened, cold, and animalistic, "run these samples against all known DNA databases in the world."

Obediently, the supercomputer flashed through a seemingly endless list of DNA profiles in several seconds. "No match," it declared in a synthesized monotone.

Batman's fist lashed out and practically dented his dashboard. He grunted furiously. The pain was intense but he blocked it out, body groaning protests which his mind viciously slapped away.

 _Calm,_ his inner voice of reason advised. _Discipline._

Batman breathed deeply, pinching his nose. When he was adequately calmed, Batman opened his eyes and looked at the console once more.

"Blonde…" he murmured to himself. Neither Bruce nor Batman had any known blonde enemies. There was Selina Kyle, the Catwoman, of course, but she was not such a cut-and-dry villain as his usual rogues. Sure, she was attracted to Batman, but Kyle didn't know that he and Bruce were the same person. Therefore, there was no reason for her to be jealous of Diana. Not that murder was even her usual M.O. anyway. In fact, did she even know how to shoot a bow? Probably not.

That left…all of no one on Batman's list of suspects. Based on the genetic profile of the hair sample, the owner was female. Narrowing the possible attackers down to half of the people on the planet was hardly a useful leap of progress.

Could it be that one of his business opponents hired an exotic assassin to take out Bruce Wayne? It was feasible. Not that this revelation was very profound. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of secret killers from all over the world whose profiles were not archived on any sophisticated databases. It was not a stretch of imagination to think that one might favor the bow and arrow as a method of elimination. Thus, this line of thinking was also going nowhere.

Batman was focusing on the wrong thing. Instead of speculating motive, he should be studying the weapon itself: surely that would reveal something about the would-be killer. Luckily, he had already retrieved the weapon from the GCPD's evidence room, where it had been placed after being found abandoned near the crime scene.

With the screeching peal of tires, the Batmobile rocketed off back to the cave. Before long, Bruce was there, leaping gracefully out of the driver's seat like always.

He deliberately ripped the cowl off, revealing the face of a haunted man. Bags were under his eyes, which were themselves bloodshot. An unkempt five o'clock shadow adorned his face, and frown lines were practically becoming stains in his handsome visage.

"Computer, analyze this object for chemical and physical composition," he ordered, placing the massive war bow inside a larger version of the compartment in his car. It barely fit.

After a short delay, the cheerful-yet-empty voice of the supercomputer replied. It gave a litany of scientific information, most of it utterly inconsequential. A few things did stand out, though. For one, the weapon's material was an extremely rare type of wood derived from a tree that went extinct in the era of the ancient Greeks. Moreover, the density, weight, and volume measurements of the bow were all contradictory. Lastly, the sturdiness and strength of the material far exceeded what should be physically possible for that species of wood, let alone a mundane object of this variety.

"Magic," Bruce breathed with almost palpable disdain.

Clearly, this bow was not made by mortals. Well, not non-magical mortals, at any rate. Technically, that alone didn't shorten the list of suspects at all: there were hundreds of cabals, enclaves, and organizations that practiced magic on earth, not to mention independent magi. When combined with the fact that the wood last existed around the same time Themiscrya was historically created, though, the natural conclusion seemed obvious.

This was an Amazonian bow.

Bruce could hardly say that he was shocked. The amazons obviously held no love for him. In fact, it was highly likely that they, to a woman, despised him more than any other enemy in their long and sordid history. It was not outside the realm of possibility to think that one zealot might have taken her fervor too far and attempted to kill him, wounding Diana instead.

That complicated things. An attempt on the life of any citizen of the United States, let alone a high-profile celebrity and beloved philanthropist such as Bruce Wayne, by a foreign power constituted a declaration of war. The reaction would be even more severe considering it was Themiscrya they were dealing with: the U.N. was already clashing with them over the Amazon's unreasonable environmental policy demands and other such details. Without Diana to foster trust, cooperation, and understanding as the official ambassador anymore, the results could be extremely deadly if knowledge of this ever broke out.

That meant Bruce effectively couldn't touch whoever had put Diana in the hospital and nearly destroyed the one good thing in his life. Sure, he could beat them up, but there would be no official arrest, no trail, no sentence. The only permanent justice he could impose was death.

Right about now, breaking his one rule seemed like a very enticing offer.

"Agghhh!" Bruce screamed, pounding the keyboard. What was he thinking? Was he even wrong to think this way? What should he do? It was an impossible situation and his mind was a maelstrom of hurt, anger, frustration, powerlessness, and determination. He didn't know how to deal with such complex, contradictory feelings and convictions other than to fight; to break something. He'd never had to deal with it before. Love did this to him, and it was too late to take that love back. Once the heart was opened, it couldn't be closed again.

Bruce panted and sweat for several long minutes, head cast downward while he focused intently on maintaining his composure. The whole time, he could feel that he was one slip of concentration away from letting rage get the better of him and going ballistic. It was a rampage he knew that he might not ever escape from. By some stroke of divine luck (or perhaps pure skill) he was able to steady himself. He trembled visibly with the effort, though.

He was getting ahead of himself. There was no clue as to the individual identity of the archer other than their race. It was still very little to go on. And even if he did know who it was specifically, there was no obvious indication as to where she fled after missing the shot.

"Balance of probability. Assess emotional condition," Bruce stated mechanically, listing steps of the deductive forensic methods he had studied while becoming Batman. Without more evidence to go on, this was a puzzle that he would have to solve with pure reasoning and accurate recall of past observations.

For this reason, Bruce was glad that Alfred was passed out from exhaustion up above him in the mansion. He needed to be alone. He also hated the idea of his adoptive father seeing him distraught in this manner, as Batman had never been before. If only the butler knew that Bruce was seriously considering wringing the life from Diana's attacker once he found them.

It would surely crush him.

With a start, Bruce snapped away from his mental maze of thoughts and back to reality. He was supposed to be thinking. He closed his eyes tight, fighting through the emotional pain and turmoil that clouded his rationality.

The odds were good that the Amazon who had shot Diana would be extremely emotionally distressed at nearly killing her ex-champion and princess…unless, that is, Diana had fallen so far from grace that no one cared any longer. If Bruce was being honest, though, he knew very little about Amazonian psychology or politics. There was no way he could accurately answer this question. Another dead end.

Unless the archer was still nearby, that is, continuing to stalk him for the kill or crippled with regret and concern. Either possibility boded well. Driven people were predictable. If he could just figure out where she might have gone to ground…

Wait. He did know the whereabouts of one Amazon in Gotham. Hippolyta. She was certainly emotionally distressed, and her being the attempted murderer would explain how she became aware of the accident so quickly. Moreover, the queen had been quick to supply an excuse for why she was there without even being asked first. And what was it she had said in the hospital room? 'I'm sorry?' At the time, he'd assumed that she'd meant 'I'm sorry that I put you here and that I couldn't protect you', but now Bruce was not so sure. Hippolyta had seemed awfully guilt-stricken and internally distraught beyond simple grief. Hippolyta also had more reason than any other Amazon in the world to hate him: she was Diana's mother and therefore the one who would logically be the most incensed by his "violation" of her.

"No, it's not possible!" Bruce gasped, eyes going wide. He knew it was very possible, though. All the pieces seemed to fit together in a way that satiated his suspicions. For her not to be the archer would take a coincidence of cosmic proportions.

Still, Bruce didn't like assuming things based on hunches, especially when there was simple test that he could do to confirm his conclusion. Furiously typing into the keyboard, he summoned the genetic profile of Diana that he'd saved to the Batcomputer. He then opened the analyzing device and placed one of the blonde hairs from the crime scene inside.

"Computer, run a DNA comparison between this sample and Diana Prince."

Several lights flashed over the course of a few seconds. Then, a page of results appeared on-screen.

It took several seconds for Bruce's mind to process what he was seeing before his eyes. Even with his prior deductions, it was nearly impossible to believe.

The computer screen was flashing the phrase "matriarchal match" in bold, red letters.

Bruce practically reeled. Even his cynicism was not strong enough to take this damning pronouncement in stride. He didn't know whether to feel rage, pain, sadness, pity, or take a page from the Joker's playbook and simply chuckle at the dark, ironic madness of it all.

Underneath this haze of emotion, there was a rational voice. It spoke to him a grim truth: that any action against the queen of the Amazons would only widen the divide between their nation and the rest of the world even more so than retaliation against a random Amazonian zealot. Truly, Bruce had found an impossible situation for himself.

Yet there was one way he could easily resolve this tension. It was to simply stop caring about the wellbeing of Diana's people. Why should he care if things escalated between Themiscrya and other nations? The sick, regressive, misandrist ideology of the Amazons had put his beloved in a hospital bed, hanging on to a scrap of life with an uncertain future. Perhaps they should all be nuked. Their bodies can burn to a crisp in the nuclear inferno of a hydrogen bomb for what they did to Diana, from what they did to him.

She was more than he had ever asked for, more than he deserved, and the only shred of normalcy and happiness that he had ever possessed since he was 8. He had vowed to scratch and claw his way through any hell in order to keep and protect her. It was only now that he added "avenge" to that list. Seeing the Amazons suffer, preceded by Hippolyta's last, dying breath struggling to escape from her lungs would be a delicious pleasure.

"No!" Bruce screamed, pounding his desk again. The whole thing shook and rattled as if an earthquake was happening. "I'm not like that! I can't…I won't…" he spat through grit teeth, trying to will the dark thoughts away.

He didn't know if he was asserting the truth, or simply trying to convince himself.

* * *

Hippolyta would have cried were it not for the fact that she'd already done enough of it lately to totally deplete her body of water. The tears refused to keep coming, as if her body was putting its foot down and demanding that she take care of herself; to rest and drink and eat.

The queen ignored it, though. Instead, she merely stared blankly at the hotel room wall, fighting to keep her panicked breathing, racing pulse, trembling hands, and pounding headache under control. It was a losing battle.

She should be back at Diana's bedside, watching over her. _A little late for that now,_ Hippolyta's conscience told her. It was a fair criticism. Her actions clearly indicated a lack of genuine concern for her daughter's well-being. Truly, saying that she felt like a colossal fool was the understatement of the millennium.

 _Do I even deserve to be by her bedside?_ Hippolyta honestly wondered to herself. _I tried to kill a man whom she loves so deeply that she would sacrifice her life for him. And not only that, but in doing so, I may have just killed her. And that is the worst scenario. In the very least, she'll suffer a great deal of pain and be unable to walk for weeks. I deserve this. I deserve to be miserable, and more. I probably don't deserve the title of 'queen' either. What kind of queen makes such a severe error of judgement, nearly killing not only a devoted subject, but a former champion and her very own daughter?_ Apparently, the answer was simple: her.

How could she honestly say she loved Diana after doing this? How could she ever look her daughter in the eye again? How could things ever go back to normal after all Hippolyta had done, after all she had taken from Diana? Piercing her chest with an arrow was simply the final insult. She should have seen this escalation coming. For all her thousands of years of wisdom, she had acted like a base animal driven by senseless and misguided emotion.

"Goddess," Hippolyta said, putting her hands over her face.

That was the other thing that troubled her. How could the five (or rather, three, now) endorse her behavior? Did they, even? The possibility that they did was perhaps more alarming than her potential fall from divine grace. What kind of deities could decree an ideology whose logical extension had driven her to such an atrocious, cowardly, and selfish act as this?

For the first time, Hippolyta was having a crisis of faith. Nothing seemed real, permanent, or sensible anymore. Her world was a land of utter confusion where everything she had built on Themiscrya felt illusory. Simply put, Hippolyta was lost and didn't know what she believed: about herself, about the five, about the amazons, about men, about Diana, about right and wrong. None of it.

 _Now I know how my daughter felt,_ she remarked to herself.

That was it, then. Her own flaws and extreme foolishness had led her down an ironic path of tragic destruction, just like the traditional Greek dramas she was so fond of. If only she had stopped to think about this sooner. If only she could take that arrow back, somehow…

Dreaming was pointless. The current reality was the situation she had found herself in; she had to be responsible and accept it. That meant facing Diana's judgement, the judgement of her people, the judgement of the gods, all of it. There would be consequences. Hippolyta prayed she had enough courage to face them, as well as whatever punishment was bestowed upon her.

Not that there could be a punishment in the universe as intense as her own self-loathing and regret. The sensation was hard to describe. It was like intense psychic torture blended with existential angst, utter emptiness, brutal nausea, and blood-thrumming stress. Dying would be preferable at this point. It would be the easy way out. But it was one Hippolyta would not take, unless Diana died. She feared that even her boundless courage would not be strong enough in that case, and she would have to swallow poison to escape the soul-shattering pain.

Hippolyta spent several hours with these types of thoughts on loop. It was a nightmarish recursion that stole the non-existent possibility of restful sleep from her. She sobbed a little more and stared at the wall in anguish. Her temples pulsated a rhythm of pain. Her eyes ached from crying so much and her body was wracked with exhaustion. Yet she still refused to sleep, both out of self-punishment and endless worrying about Diana's status. Quite simply, she didn't see how it was possible for her to relax long enough to rest, and that was ignoring the question of whether she even deserved it while her daughter was struggling for life on a hospital bed.

The queen was shaken from her stupor when a large mechanical object flew through the open window and into her room. It was a flying contraption with a set of quiet rotary blades keeping it aloft. An electronic tablet was attached to its underside.

With a click, the object was released, falling to the floor of the hotel room. Just as swiftly as it had entered, the remote drone left the room. Hippolyta marveled at the strange event for a split second, then leaped up to investigate the tablet. Picking it up, she saw a typed message on the screen.

 _H. This is B. I know it was you. I'm talking to you this way because I fear that I would not be able to control my actions were we ever to meet face-to-face again. I phrased that statement that way because I'm banishing you from Gotham. I'm warning you to leave immediately. I can take care of and watch over D myself. I promise to have you updated as to her status. But you must leave. A diplomatic incident would be disastrous for the both of us. Moreover, D cannot learn who did this. It would crush her spirit. Going by her own recollection of her last conversation with you, she doesn't want to see you ever again anyway. Frankly, I feel the same way. You have brought nothing but ruin to us._

 _You have 24 hours._

Twin bolts of shock and fear shot through Hippolyta. She began to cry again, somehow finding a hidden reservoir of emotional energy and tears. Batman was right. She was a terrible mother. It would be best if she simply left Diana alone and stopped interfering with her life before she caused even more harm.

It was time to face facts: Diana was happy with Bruce. Hippolyta was still unable to understand it, but she had newfound, hard-learned respect of it. All of her doubts about the sincerity and authenticity of her daughter's feelings had been dispelled in one painfully lucid instant by Diana's selfless act of protecting Bruce's life at the potential cost of her own.

Clearly, there was something in Bruce which warranted this kind of devotion. Hippolyta didn't know what this could be, either, but she trusted Diana's judgement. She didn't have the conviction to question her daughter anymore. Not after seeing the gruesome results of doing so first hand. In any case, Diana's beliefs had to be more valid than her own. The exiled princess hadn't tried to murder someone in cold blood and accidentally wounded a fellow Amazon instead, after all.

Perhaps one day Hippolyta could atone for what she had done. But until then, the knowledge of what had transpired and the stress of not being near her daughter was a well-deserved anguish. As such, she welcomed it.

Tossing the tablet aside, the queen collapsed on her bed. Tomorrow she would depart Gotham without a backward glance.

Curling into a ball, Hippolyta eventually drifted off into a nightmare-tormented sleep.


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Notes: We're moving into the endgame of the story. While I do desperately want to finish this saga, it will be hard for me. The upcoming section will probably be very dense and I have limited time to work on it. I'm also trying to not get burned out on it, either. So, I ask for your patience as I release these last 5 or so chapters. And I appreciate the patience and support you've given so far. It's amazing to know that so many people are following/favorite something that *I* wrote. So, thank you.**

 **Also, be sure to review. I hate being "this guy", but it's one of the best things you can do to get me to write more/faster. Reviews are extremely heartening and give me so much inspiration. To be honest, I'm starting to get bored of writing fanfiction, and want to write original stories, but it's the passionate support that I get from you guys which makes me want to keep coming back to it.**

 **Enjoy!**

Bruce hastily parked his car in his reserved space at Gotham General, narrowly avoiding scraping the vehicle next to him by a tiny margin. He barely noticed or cared. The park-job was horrific, but that didn't concern him either.

Without hesitation, the billionaire ripped his seatbelt off and practically bolted out of the car. He barely had time to slam the door shut and fumble with the 'lock' button before reaching the sliding double doors of the hospital's front entrance.

Damian was just a few steps behind him. It had been around 3:30 in the afternoon when he'd received the good news from the hospital, and Damian had returned to the mansion from school by then. No less eager to visit his new, adoptive "mother", the boy had decided to tag along.

In a haze, the duo practically brushed passed the nurses and security guards, only stopping for the exact amount of time required to rattle of the information that the employees needed to hear to let them pass. Within minutes, they were a few power-strides away from the ajar door to Diana's room.

Rounding the corner, two facts became readily apparent. For one, Diana was awake, sitting propped up in the hospital bed. Two, Clark Kent was sitting in a chair at her bedside.

Bruce and Damian ignored the latter detail for now. Instead, they rushed to Diana's side, sighing in relief.

"They told me you were conscious," Bruce explained, "but I didn't believe it until now."

Diana met his fierce embrace with one of her own, though the grip was not nearly as strong as it usually was. Her scent, the earthy-jasmine smell that boiled his blood, was still there in full. Her silken hair was as lustrous as ever, her eyes as boundlessly azure as they were supposed to be, and her skin flawless as usual.

In short, Diana was truly herself again. Bruce could hardly believe it. The proof was right there in front of him, though. It was in his nose as he inhaled deeply and on his lips as he planted a firm kiss against her soft cheek.

She was his once again. All that worry, all of his terror, it seemed to silly and distant and meaningless now. The only thing that mattered was that his princess was alive and recovering.

Diana said nothing. She merely cooed softly into his long embrace until he regretfully pulled away to look at her once more.

Seizing his opportunity, Damian leapt in for an extremely uncharacteristic hug as well, which Diana returned with equal passion.

"I was so worried," Damian groaned before pulling away as if ashamed. "Don't do that ever again," he protested sternly. There was no real edge to it: his harsh, nonsensical words concealed a caring interior. That much was plain for Diana to see.

She chuckled softly despite the seriousness of her companions. Then Diana took each of their hands in one of hers and finally spoke. "The universe evidently doesn't hate you two brooders as much as you seem to think it does. I told you: I'll never leave you. And an amazon, even an exiled one, never breaks her promises."

Her voice was as regal and elegant as ever, but a had a hard undertone of something ugly in it. Maybe pain, or perhaps weariness. Likely both. Surviving a bowshot center-mass couldn't possibly be pleasant or easy, Bruce reasoned. Even for demigods with magical powers. His eyebrows furrowed in concern. Damian, probably arriving at the same exact conclusion, followed suit.

Diana smiled in her classic way that seemed to brighten the room. "I'm just a little tired," she explained, eyes flitting back and forth between the two Waynes. "And sore. Don't worry about it, I'll be fine. The doctors say I'm healing quite well, considering."

Bruce opened his mouth to say something again but suddenly became aware once more that Clark was in the room. At the moment, the reporter was attempting to politely look away.

"Clark," Bruce and Damian said simultaneously by way of greeting, their voices blending into a choir of somberness.

"Bruce. Damian," the alien said cheerfully, standing to greet them. "It's good to see you. Both of you. I came as soon as I could. I certainly didn't expect that she'd be up already," he added with a grin.

"Neither did we," Damian said. Still, he couldn't stop an infectious smile from appearing on his face. Mirth was starting to become and expression he was well-suited to, at least outside of the mask. Especially at a glorious moment like this.

Diana was stone faced. "Not here. Some of the staff are starting to suspect that I'm you-know-who," she whispered. "It was only a matter of time."

"Have they? I suppose I'll have to buy them off, then," Bruce replied, glancing around to make sure that no one was listening.

As if on cue, Damian sleuthed over to the open door and peered around the corner to make sure that his father was correct. It would have been comical, if not for the fact that it was obvious the boy actually knew what he was doing; he glided soundlessly like shadow.

Clark chuckled. "They do say that money always talks."

Diana turned to face the disguised Superman. "Wally also said that when he came by. He was the one who pointed out that the rumors were going around, in fact. I was too busy trying to choke down the awful food to notice."

"Figures. He's a natural gossip anyway," Clark replied.

"Wait a minute, how many other people got to visit my girlfriend in the hospital before me?" Bruce quipped with an air of fake jealousy.

Diana stroked her chin and squinted her eyes pensively, pretending to count visitors on her hand. "Shayera makes five…" she mumbled loud enough for the two men to hear.

Bruce let out a low, deep rumble of laughter. Clark followed suit, with Diana trailing last, smirking at her own joke.

"Just him, and Clark," Diana clarified. "It was very sweet."

Bruce didn't know what else to say. He was just glad that she was alive. All he could do was stroke the back of her hand with a thumb. Damian merely stole concerned glances from his position as lookout.

"So…are they back?" Clark asked, partly from trying to fill the silence and partly from genuine curiosity. They might as well talk somewhat openly as long as the newest Robin was making sure that no one overheard them.

Diana shook her head sadly. It was plain what he had meant by 'they'. "I'm afraid not. I felt them return…well, at least the healing factor, that is, for a short time. I'm not sure how long. But I'm definitely not…what I used to be. Still, it's good to know that some of them still want to help me. At least, I think they do."

Clark nodded solemnly in understanding. Bruce gazed at him, then back at her questioningly.

"I filled him in before all of this," she said, shrugging. "It seemed like the right thing to do."

"And I informed the rest of the founders. They have at least a cursory knowledge of what's going on," Clark continued. "If you two need anything…protection, perhaps, from whoever did this…"

Batman shook his head. "I can handle it," he shot back, a little too viciously.

Clark frowned. "It's good to know you still have your pathological independence, Bruce," he remarked sardonically. "It's one thing when we're just talking about you. But now that she's at risk too…"

"I can handle myself," the woman in question interjected, leaping to Bruce's defense. "Or at least I _will_ be able to, once I get out of this bed. Now that we know we have an enemy and are expecting an attack…" she trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

Bruce nodded emphatically. "Besides, the manor is easily the safest place in the world right now," he said, turning to Clark. "Well, except for the watchtower, that is. But if the rest of the league knew…"

"Morale," Diana added for redundancy. "It's better if non-founders don't know for now. They look up to us. All of us."

Clark sighed, acquiescing the point. "You two really are made for each other," he said. "Both stubborn as mules, as mama Kent would say, and self-sacrificing as all heck."

Bruce and Diana grinned conspiratorially at each other. He wasn't wrong.

Clark glanced at his watch. "This has been great. It's really wonderful to know you're doing better, Diana. I really should be going though."

"Trouble in metropolis?" Diana asked.

"Yeah…and her name is Lois," Clark replied, heading towards the door. "At least, it will be if I'm late for yet another night out."

This earned another light chuckle from the happy couple.

"Besides, you two lovebirds deserve some time alone. Bruce. Damian. Diana," Clark added, nodding, then left hastily.

"I guess women are his other kryptonite," Diana joked.

"Well, your gender _can_ be pretty infuriating," Bruce shot back.

"You got that right…" Damian muttered under his breath.

Diana socked Bruce in his bicep. "Careful Bruce. Keep talking like that and I might have to go all amazon on you and break a few more ribs," she said playfully. "And you, little one," she followed up, turning to face Damian, "had better watch out. I have half a mind to ground you for that. Or walk right out of this bed and smack you too. I'm not quite sure which, though."

"You're cute when you threaten me, especially since you're the one who should be careful," Bruce shot back with a wink before Damian could formulate a no-doubt aggressive verbal defense. "Without those powers of yours, I might mistake love taps like that for foreplay. Or those threats of yours for a challenge you can ill-afford to lose."

Diana bit her lip and looked up at him with heavily-lidded eyes. "Who says I want to win?" she whispered sultrily, massaging the spot she'd struck earlier.

Damian opened his mouth wide and pretended to push a finger down it in the universal sign of vomiting, making a wet gagging noise while he did so. Neither of the couple payed his teen hijinks any mind, though.

Bruce swallowed. He took a seat and scooted in close to her bed. Diana did the same, sliding over to the edge so their faces could be inches apart.

"Don't ever change, princess," Bruce requested.

A sudden, passionate kiss was Diana's only answer.

* * *

The sun was setting on Themyscira. It made a beautiful sight: golden rays were cascading majestically over the horizon, casting the white marble buildings of the island paradise in an idyllic light. The cities' silence only served to enhance the serenity of the scene.

Queen Hippolyta of the Amazons noticed none of it. Instead, she trudged resolutely off the platform which stretched diagonally from the invisible jet to the smooth ground of the massive landing pad.

Her steps were heavy and purposeful. Much of her usual grace was mysteriously absent, as if she was too exhausted or consumed by some hidden trouble that distracted her mind from such trivial pursuits as making sure she looked good while walking. This theory was confirmed by the dark circles around her eyes, indicating a lack of proper sleep. Worry lines marred her otherwise pretty face, and a far-off, haunted look gleamed in her eyes.

The twin rows of honor guards that flanked Hippolyta surely made note of these facts. They were trained to be extremely perceptive sentinels, after all. None of them vocalized these observations, though, electing to stand dutifully at attention while their queen and high priestess passed by.

Hippolyta continued to brush past her personal warriors, paying them no heed. In fact, she barely noticed their existence, either. She was far too dead-set on her goal to do otherwise.

Several minutes later, the queen arrived at the grand building which served as the seat of the Amazon's government. Half of her retinue of soldiers lined up in pre-defined positions throughout the main hall and leading up to the marble throne. The other half silently took up positions outside. Watching them do this was like witnessing clockwork gears perform their individual functions in perfect harmony.

Without further ado, Hippolyta roughly plopped down on her throne. It had been too long since she'd sat here. Far too long. The foray into man's world had been a complete waste of time as well. This fact only served to add to Hippolyta's mounting shame.

 _If I can't be a good mother, perhaps I can be a good queen,_ she thought to herself. Her head sunk heavily against a hand that was propped up on one arm of the throne as she did this.

A deep sigh escaped her lips. How could she go on? How could she focus on ruling wisely when guilt tore at her heart like the razor-sharp claws of a harpy? How could she possibly be expected to think clearly when Diana was thousands of miles away, languishing in fear and pain from a near-fatal wound that she herself had (albeit accidentally) inflicted?

The answer was obvious. She couldn't.

"How was the trip, my queen?" a fiery voice asked suddenly from her side.

Turning languidly, Hippolyta viewed Artemis approaching from a nearby doorway. The redhead stopped when she was but ten or so feet away, head cocked slightly in curiosity.

"Is something amiss?" Artemis pressed.

Hippolyta sighed again. "Where do I begin, my faithful advisor?" the blonde queen responded. "Hera, help me…" said, putting her face into her palms.

Artemis frowned. "I take it that your mission was…unsuccessful, then?"

Hippolyta looked up again and shook her head slowly. Sadly. "No. It surely was not," she spoke in a defeated tone.

"Would you care to elaborate?" Artemis replied, raising an eyebrow.

Hippolyta was silent for several long moments. "I learned all I needed to learn."

"And?"

Another delay. "I think I…no. I *was* wrong, Artemis. About all of it." When the red-haired woman still looked confused, Hippolyta continued. "I'm going to let it go. Leave her alone, that is, and absolve Batman of his crimes. There is no other way. I see that so clearly, now."

Artemis stared at the dour queen, who in turn stared at the empty air as if deep in thought. The younger Amazon's face was a mask of shock and disappointment.

Artemis fumbled soundlessly with her words for a time, wrath mounting. Eventually, the emotion could no longer simmer beneath her calm demeanor.

"That's it? You're just going to let him get away with it?" she practically yelled, moving in front of her queen so that the she was forced to look at her.

"As I said, Artemis," Hippolyta replied, making perfect eye contact but remaining impassive, "there is no other way."

"What do you mean there is 'no other way'?!" her advisor shouted. "Listen to yourself. That is absurd. We must punish him for what he has done to our princess. To *our* Diana. Not to mention the fact that she needs our help now more than ever! Man's world, men, have clearly corrupted her with their evil influence. What kind of mother are you to walk away from her like that?!"

Hippolyta's gaze turned icy and dangerous. She couldn't summon the energy to get mad, but she was ready and willing to display dominance about this matter. "There are factors at play, Artemis, that you do not understand. Things you have not seen as I have seen them. I know what a monster I've been. You had better believe me on that account. Nonetheless, it is not your place to question the will of your queen."

Artemis turned away, putting her back to Hippolyta and staring out of the massive, open front doors to the hall. "Do you have any idea what's happened while you've been away?"

"Tensions are worsening, are they not?"

Artemis nodded. "Yes, they have. Drastically," she said, turning to Hippolyta for dramatic effect. "Blood has been spilled between the traditionalist and reformer factions."

Hippolyta nodded "I assumed as much. And I can imagine that my absence has not helped in this regard."

"No, it really hasn't," Artemis stated, swiveling around and placing her hands behind her back. "Our people are split fairly evenly down the middle. Your presence could easily turn the tide. Despite whatever people believe, many still respect the authority of your rule, and look to you for guidance as our queen. We could lead a charge and purge this reformist nonsense from Themiscyra!"

Hippolyta seemed to mull over the idea for moment. Then, "No, Artemis. That is not how we shall proceed."

The woman in question narrowed her eyes. "Forgive me for my insolence, queen, but you cannot possibly be telling me that your sympathies lie with these ungracious rebels who wish to undo our most ancient of laws and customs, who wish to end our isolationism and allow men on the island once more."

Hippolyta shook her head. "I wouldn't go that far so quickly, Artemis. But yes, the thought has crossed my mind recently that they may have been right all along. It is a matter that will require greater deliberation. For now, I wish to foster peace and consider all viewpoints."

Artemis practically quivered in anger. Her eyes darted to the side, catching the gaze of one of the honor guards situated in the room. The woman gave a slight, grim nod in return.

The redhead closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I cannot allow this to continue," she stated evenly and carefully.

Hippolyta quirked an eyebrow. "You had better explain the meaning of that ominous statement. Quickly," the queen shot back.

"I have always been your most faithful retainer, Hippolyta," Artemis began. "You know this. You also know that it is because I believed in you and your wisdom. For thousands of years, you ruled with grace. I never once trusted your judgement. Thus, when the stirrings of new ideas began, when some amazons began to question the veracity of our exclusionist policies, it was easy for me align myself with you. At first, you seemed to represent all that was beautiful about the old ways, all that was beautiful about Themiscrya. Your vindictive pursuit of Batman was admirable and necessary. That is why I never imagined you could turn your back on us like this."

Hippolyta leapt to her feet. "What?! I am NOT turning my back on our people!" she yelled, stabbing a finger at Artemis. "How bold you must be to accuse me of such a thing! No, I am trying to save us _from ourselves._ Look at what we've done, Artemis. Look at our situation. We're practically on the verge of entering into a civil war born of ideology and discontent that had simmered for eons. Do you want to see the streets run read with blood? Do you want to see chaos and death reign supreme? I can't speak for you, Artemis, but I've had enough violence for one immense lifetime. We are amazons. We should be fostering peace, understanding, and love. Not war. I realize, only now, that somewhere along the line, we lost sight of the mission that the gods prescribed for us. And the worst part about it is, I'm the one to blame for it. This cancer grew during my rule. It is therefore my responsibility to set things right."

The throne room reverberated at the conclusion of her tirade, slowing fading into a tense silence. Artemis looked away, perhaps in shame, perhaps in deep thought.

Eventually, the redhead spoke. "I'm sorry to have to do this, my queen," she said, a solemn tear rolling down the side of her cheek. "But it must be done. You're right: this unrest IS your fault. You have lost your way. You have abandoned the glorious ideals that once made us strong. You have truly cast aside your better judgement and concern for the well-being of Themiscrya.

"You are no longer fit to be our queen."

Hippolyta's eyes shot wide open and she stepped back, putting a hand on the xiphos blade that rested at her side. "Artemis, you can't really be considering…" she started. "Think carefully before you make your next move."

The fiery woman shook her head. "I know that I could not best you. That is why I acquired allies," she explained, smirking. It was a gesture partly of self-satisfaction, and partly of dry humor.

As she did so, the half-dozen honor guards in the room began walking up the steps to the throne, encircling Hippolyta. In moments, her lonely xiphos was outnumbered by a fearsome array of swords, bows, and spears. Her luck had run out. There was no way to defeat them.

"There are others who believe as I do, Hippolyta," Artemis pressed on in the silence of Hippolyta's shock. "The very same asset that once protected and empowered your rule, the loyalty of your subjects, is now your greatest weakness. For it was what you represented that we truly loved. Now that you have betrayed us, we loyalists are your most rabid foes. We will continue to support the old ways, with or without you."

Hippolyta removed her hand from the xiphos, knowing it was pointless to resist anyway. She was no Diana.

"You dare speak of betrayal while surrounding your queen at sword point?" she asked, straightening her back into the most regal and brave posture she could affect.

Artemis shook her head. "If we're keeping score, Hippolyta, your betrayal was far greater. Mine is merely a necessary evil evoked in response to yours."

"Tell that to yourself all you want. It doesn't make what you are doing right."

Artemis tapped a finger to her chin. "Where have I heard those words before…"

Hippolyta looked down in pensive shame. The other woman had a very fair point. She refused to let her emotion show, though. She'd meet her death or capture with dignity.

"Take her to the dungeons," Artemis barked. Her voice seemed to carry a pang of sadness to it.

As the honor guards led Hippolyta away, bound by the lasso of truth, Artemis steeled herself. It had been the right thing to do. There was no other way, wasn't there? It had been what needed to be done, regardless of her personal feelings. She took a long sigh, still not totally sure about this.

"What now, Artemis?" one of the remaining warriors asked her.

It took her a moment to realize that someone was talking to her and formulate a response. "Contact General Phillipus. She won't like it, but what alternative is there? We have seized the palace and the queen. Even if her damned neutrality flares up again, we can leverage her to support us. And with her comes the bulk of Themiscrya's army."

"Sound reasoning," the warrior stated, emphatically nodding her head. "I do not regret agreeing to this coup, for I see that you are worthy indeed of becoming the ex-queen's replacement."

Artemis glanced at the throne. It seemed to her as if whispers were echoing faintly in her ear, promising sweet power and glory. Her vision began to swim and turn hazy, as if she were hypnotized by the sight of the marble throne.

"I'll send a runner right away," the honor guard followed up, clearly a bit annoyed at being ignored for Artemis-didn't-know-how-long.

When the guard had almost left the throne room, the redhead finally wheeled around, a reply on her lips.

"I am not doing this for power," she stated firmly. "This is about what's best for all amazons."

The guard nodded in agreement and turned to leave.

Artemis turned slowly back to throne, feeling weak and indecisive. The empty throne seemed to loom before her again, simultaneously tantalizing her and symbolizing the guilt within her soul.

Her words hadn't sounded like she was really trying to convince the guard, Artemis realized.

They had sounded like she was trying to convince herself.


	23. Chapter 23

"You have a visitor at the door, Master Bruce."

Bruce leaned back in the large chair that was placed in front of the Batcomputer and swiveled it in the direction of his butler. "You must be pulling my leg, Alfred," he quipped at him across the dark cavern. "Diana's already here, and Damian's training with the Titans."

Under ordinary circumstances, his implication would have been correct. Virtually no one outside of the League ever sought audience with either of his personas. Those in the League normally used the teleporters or flew, typically contacting him on the League comms first. Even then, it was a rare occurrence. His son and his love interest were pretty much the only ones he saw with any degree of regularity. Strangers knocking on the door was an almost entirely unheard-of event. Everyone knew that Mr. Wayne was a compulsive shut-in when he wasn't out carousing with the upper echelons of society.

"I'm afraid not," Alfred replied. "Ordinarily, I simply would have let her in after a brief round of polite questioning. However, the scanners picked up a weapon hidden on her body."

Bruce frowned. "If she's an assassin, she's a lousy one."

The butler nodded. "Those were my thoughts as well. However, she approached the front door directly, without any hint of subterfuge, and has been waiting with almost robotic patience for someone to answer. I thought it a bit curious. There are a number of other puzzling factors as well, and so I decided it best to defer to your intuition."

Bruce nodded approvingly and swiveled his chair back to face the computer's keyboard. "All right, then. I'll pull up the camera feeds and see if I know her from somewhere," Bruce said. Several seconds later, the simple task was complete.

A slanted-angle, isometric image of a well-proportioned, athletic female dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and a thin jacket appeared on screen. The camera angle didn't reveal her face, though, as a hood was currently obscuring it. She was also slightly hunched over and shivering, which was unsurprising, given her lack of proper winter attire and the fact that sleet was falling outside. The x-ray scanners displayed a highlighted image of her weapon: a xiphos sword strapped to her back, concealed underneath the jacket.

Bruce stroked his chin. "You're right, Alfred. This situation is odd…but I know who she is. Everything will be fine," the billionaire assured with a sly smile.

Alfred was a bit taken aback. "Forgive me for questioning your judgement," he began half-scoldingly, half-formally, "but how can you be so certain?"

Bruce rose to his feet and began to walk towards the stairs that led out of the cave. "Call it a hunch. Besides, there's nothing for you to worry about. I'll answer it myself."

"I would like to point out that you are not wearing your equipment, and are therefore ill-prepared for combat," Alfred stated disapprovingly, sounding more and more like a frustrated parent trying to curb the wild fancies of their offspring.

"Well then, I suppose it's a good thing that I won't need to fight for the foreseeable future," Bruce smirked as he ascended the stairway. "Please prepare some hot chocolate and blankets for our guest. The poor thing's freezing."

As he reached the summit of the stairs (and the slid-back grandfather clock), he heard a frustrated sigh several paces behind him, followed by a defeated-sounding "As you wish, sir."

Stepping into one of the manor's living rooms, Bruce spied Diana, who was still curled up in her cozy, blanketed spot on the couch. A movie was playing over the room's flatscreen, the most recent iteration of the exiled amazon's endless crusade to digest and understand modern culture through fiction. For the moment, her attention was totally fixated on Ridley Scott's _Blade Runner._

"Bruce," Diana called, barely moving her attention away from the screen. "Why didn't you tell me about this film sooner? It's commentaries on the nature of human existence are legendary."

Bruce chuckled. "Indeed. It's always been one of my favorites. Maybe we can finish it together, sometime. We have a visitor for the moment."

"Oh?" she asked quizzically, languidly reaching for the remote and clicking the screen paused on a still of Harrison Ford sprinting through a futuristic street with his gun raised. "Who is it?"

"An amazon."

Diana was on her feet in a moment. "What? It can't be…" she stated incredulously. "Whatever she wants, it can't be good."

"Well, we'll just have to see, then, won't we?" Bruce replied from over his shoulder as he headed for the front door.

"You can't fight dressed like that," Diana shot back, rushing up to and keeping pace with him. "If she tries anything, I'll break her arm," she stated ominously, cracking her knuckles.

It was no idle boast. Diana was in a much better condition, having totally recovered from her near-fatal arrow wound. Bruce and Diana both suspected an intervention by Aphrodite in order to explain the cause of her healing, entirely unaware of Bruce's pivotal role in helping her.

The doctors had also been utterly amazed by her rapid progress, of course. This necessitated that they, as well as the media, were bribed by an anonymous party to keep silent about it.

Nearly four months had passed since then, during which time Diana had gone almost immediately back to protecting Gateway City in the persona of Myrmidon, as well as even doing some occasional League work.

"My hero," Bruce joked, earning himself a quick peck on the cheek as they walked.

"You're awfully confident that we ought not to be worried," Diana observed, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because, our visitor is an ally. Her name is…" Bruce responded, timing it for when he was about the reach the front door. He swung it open, revealing the same scene to Diana that he had witnessed earlier.

"….Commander Alkyone. Greetings!" he said warmly.

A gasp was heard and the figure recoiled in shock, reaching instinctually for the sword at her back. Diana tensed, ready to spring into action, while Bruce merely smiled disarmingly at both women.

"G-greetings," the visitor replied mid-shiver, slowly looking up as she pulled back her hood. "How did you know?" she asked, visibly chill breath cascading out of her mouth.

Diana gasped. He'd been right…this was none other than Commander Alkyone, one of the main leaders of the Amazonian military, serving directly under General Phillipus herself.

"There were a few giveaways," Bruce answered, shrugging. "I'll tell you later, if you like. For now, let's get you out of the cold. Please, come inside."

"Many thanks," Alkyone graciously replied.

Stepping out of the way, Diana had to contain her shock at seeing another amazon. Although she'd lived for centuries upon centuries, three years without non-hostile contact seemed to span an eternity. It was only now that she realized how desperately she truly missed her people and needed to see a friendly face from her childhood once more.

Bruce shut the door against the icy winter gales and swiveled to face their guest. "Alfred should be here with warm blankets and something hot to drink any minute now," he said.

"That sounds wonderful," Alkyone said, shivering and hugging herself. "I'd spent so much time on the island that I forgot seasons existed and failed to prepare adequately for this environment."

Then, as if noticing Diana for the first time. Alkyone swiveled to face her with a deep smile on her face. "Diana…" she whispered. "It's been so long."

A second later, Diana found herself enveloped by an embrace from the other woman. She found that it was easy to return the gesture with genuine affection, though the cold that clung to her body did sting a bit.

"Indeed," the raven-haired demigod replied. "My memories of those days we spent diving from tall cliffs are incalculably precious to me."

"I'm so sorry for all that has happened to you," Alkyone said, pulling away from the hug at length. She clasped Diana's forearm and shook it in a warrior's fashion, the latter mirroring it. "Both of you; I've sympathized from the start," she explained, turning to regard Bruce as well. "Had I known the real reason why the Queen lead us to face you in that alleyway, I would have refused to participate in that ridiculous nonsense. As it was, I had my misgivings, but could not voice them or contradict Hippolyta's orders out of fear. I regret this."

"What are you talking about, Alkyone?" Diana asked.

"She saved me from being killed by one of your sisters that night I came to rescue you," Bruce said, "as well as deceived some of the soldiers looking for me so that I might make my escape. It was a gambit that necessitated that I roughed her up a bit. It's favor that I am deeply appreciative of."

Alkyone bobbed her chin at Bruce in a sign of acknowledgement. "Part of the reason that I did it was because I was among the party of honor guards who wrongly attacked him," Alkyone explained, facing Diana again. "I felt I owed him that much out of contrition."

"He never told me about those details" Diana chuckled. "If that's the case, then we are both in your eternal debt, Alkyone. Not that I mind offering hospitality to a sister who doesn't look down on me, for once."

"Aye," Alkyone replied, gazing down sadly. "To say that it is a depressing state of affairs would be a grand understatement. It's also partially why I'm here right now. Surely you must be wondering what could motivate an amazon to find her way across vast distances, through perilous weather and foreign lands, all to visit an exile and one of man's world's heroes in disguise."

Both Bruce and Diana nodded, eagerly.

"It's Themyscira," Alkyone stated dejectedly, nearly looking at the floor out of sorrow and shame.

Diana's eyes shot wide open. "Yes? Is there something amiss?"

Alkyone nodded, tears nearly coming to her eyes. "Indeed. It's in flames. Civil war has torn us apart. Madness, blood, and death rule the day."

Diana gasped, tears coming to her own eyes. Her fists clenched, her whole body following suit. "Who!? Why?!" she half-sobbed, half-growled.

Alkyone merely shook her head. "I wish I could tell you. There's more than just that, though."

"How could there be more!?" Diana demanded angrily. Bruce reached out and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, which visibly calmed her. Only slightly, though.

"Hippolyta. Your mother. The Queen and High Priest of the amazons," Alkyone continued.

"She's been overthrown and imprisoned."

* * *

Bruce sat with the two Amazons at one of his manor's elegant marble kitchen counters. All three were quietly sipping their cups of piping hot chocolate. The awkward silence that had settled over the group seemed oppressive, even though it had only lasted a manner of moments.

"This is actually quite good," Alkyone stated genuinely, but with an understandably hard edge to her tone.

"It is, isn't it? I don't know how Alfred does it," Diana replied, voice equally somber, as if she were barely holding back a wellspring of boiling rage right under the surface.

Bruce sighed. Clearly, the petty façade of this small talk could only last so long. He counted himself lucky that he'd been able to convince Diana that running half-cocked off to Themyscira in a fit of anger wasn't a good idea. After an intense shouting match, he'd been able to win the argument with his cool logic and reasoning. This relaxing hot chocolate break was his way of getting the fiery warriors to calm down so that they could analyze the situation rationally.

"Why don't you start at the beginning, Alkyone. Please, tell us what you know," he requested gently but firmly, interlocking his hand with Diana's. For all his cautious reservation, he still bore a deep concern for the well-being of the amazon people…even if his experience with them so far had been almost entirely negative.

He could only imagine how Diana felt. Themyscira was her _homeland._

Alkyone sighed and stared across the table as if entranced in thought. After a several long moments, an expected emotion broke out on her face: mild amusement and laughter.

"It's funny," she said a little listlessly, gesturing across the table at the couple's joined hands. "How such a simple little gesture is unappreciated by so many of our people. And it is only made _more_ precious for its ironic rarity."

Diana gripped Bruce's hand a little more firmly, as if trying to ward away the harsh realities Alkyone's words invoked.

"Even as our home tears itself apart, I find myself compelled to stop and marvel at the beauty of it," Alkyone continued. "After all…our inability to do so is at the root of our demise. Surely you can see that, Diana."

The exiled princess nodded slowly. The words were all too true, and all too sad. A tear began to form in one of her eyes.

"You're saying that love is the reason the amazons are fighting themselves?" Batman asked.

Alkyone nodded slowly. Solemnly. "Yes, Bruce. That is correct, albeit indirectly."

The dark knight raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"You are aware that amazons are the reincarnated souls of women who were hurt and killed by men throughout history?" she asked. "And that we overthrew the rule of Hercules and his men, who brutally enslaved us?"

Bruce nodded in the affirmative. "Diana has told me as much."

"Good. Then you can understand the reasons why our way of life, for eons, has been one of isolation and hostility towards your gender. I'm not saying that it's entirely justified or unjustified: I'm merely speaking the truth. Most amazons recall their experiences with men as being…traumatic, to say the least. So, for thousands of years, we despised them. We believed your world to be corrupt and irredeemably evil. And for the entirety of our existence, we had nothing but proof to validate these beliefs and a complete absence of a more nuanced perspective.

"That is, until you, Diana," Alkyone finished, gazing directly into her addressee's azure eyes.

"Me?" Diana asked with surprise lacing her voice. "What have I done?"

Alkyone shook her head. "You truly have no idea what an uproar you caused, do you?" she asked.

Diana frowned. "No. I've been away for too long. My short time imprisoned in the tower didn't afford much interaction, and I was ill-inclined to engage in it," she said simply.

Alkyone raised her hands placatingly. "I don't begrudge you that," she explained. "I can sympathize. You have every right to hate us, to do the things you've done."

"What effect did Diana have on your people?" Bruce inquired, trying to keep the conversation on track.

Another sigh. "That would be a very long and complicated story," Alkyone lamented. "I will summarize it for you, instead.

"When Diana defied our laws by bringing your organization to Themyscira, and we saw that a group of men had risked their lives to save us from the clutches of Hades, some us began to question our convictions. Here were a group of people who, having defeated Hades himself, were clearly more powerful than us. Yet you abstained from using your leverage to overpower or take advantage of us. What's more, it was our very own champion and princess who had brought you there, seemingly trusting you despite being men.

"Although most agreed with the Queen's verdict of exile, there was a small, yet significant minority who vehemently rejected her decision. Hippolyta's rule, respect, and authority was weakened ever so slightly. Since she and Diana are living avatars of our traditional customs, this doubt extended to the validity of our convictions. While all but a radical few rejected the notion that men could be good, some believed firmly in Diana.

"When knowledge of what sort of liaisons Diana was having with a man became public, many denounced her. They were disgusted. The questioning minority was only emboldened by this revelation, however. We had placed our trust in her as our champion, and she had proved herself worthy of it. Her judgement had our firm faith.

"The final blow was struck when Diana so viciously defended you during your escape, standing up to her mother, even. Her impassioned speech about the failure of our people to promote love, peace, and justice in the world stirred the hearts of many, winning more onto our side and proving that we were onto something. Yet the gods appeared to be against her; the Five had revoked her powers.

"This created a nearly equal schism. The traditionalists opposed Diana's philosophy and sided with Hippolyta. They put their faith in the gods and the old ways, while we reformers argued for more active participation in man's world and put our faith in Diana's wisdom. There were debates that soon became violent. Sisters on opposing sides dueled to the death over this. Tempers were running hot. There was talk of civil war and open rebellion."

"Goddess," Diana intoned breathlessly, more tears threatening to fall. "I never knew..."

"It's not your fault, Diana," Bruce said, putting both hands over hers and leaning in comfortingly. "You didn't do anything wrong. Though my opinion may be admittedly biased."

"For what it's worth," Alkyone jumped in, placing her hand, too, over Diana's, "I agree wholeheartedly."

Diana nodded, wiping the tears away with a sleeve. "Thank you…both of you. To have learned of this on my own, without your support…I can't even dream of it." The brunette princess smiled. "I will never be able to absolve myself entirely of this seething guilt, though."

"You had to know this was coming, Diana," Alkyone countered, withdrawing her hand. "The ideological stirrings have existed for centuries upon centuries, a surge of volatile emotions building and building into a bloody catharsis. Your actions were merely the catalyst. We amazons are violent, stubborn, ancient beings. Overly so. You know this. And now, it may finally be our downfall."

Diana was resolute. "I refuse to believe that. We'll stop it from happening."

"Aye."

There was another delay as everyone digested the slough of information and harrowing conversation.

"At first, I hated you, too," Alkyone said, looking at Bruce. "I remembered the men who tormented and killed me. Vividly. Every single defilement, cut, and bruise."

"What changed?" Bruce asked.

"I remembered all the men in my life whom I'd loved so deeply," Alkyone answered, replete with nostalgia. "My brother, who bravely stood up to the marauders, screaming at them to leave me alone, despite the fact that he was half my age. My father, who toiled ceaselessly in the fields of my village to provide us with a meager existence. And most of all, my beloved. He donned his armor and weapons that day, happy that if he died in combat, it would at least be ensuring the safety of the village, would be ensuring that I lived a long, happy life. Of this I have no doubt. I'd have gladly suffered even worse torture if it meant sparring his life."

Alkyone blinked, her joyous reminiscing coming to an abrupt halt. "Or bringing him back," she said, choking down a sudden sob. "I've missed him so. All these years of accursed _immortality_ ," she explained, a ghost of a desolate whisper. Tears ran down her face and pooled on the countertop. She looked the very essence of a woman haunted by some inconceivable horror.

Bruce abruptly stood up from the table and walked over to Alkyone. The latter gazed up into his eyes as he stared into hers. Their exchange was like the abyss recognizing the unending bleak maw of itself.

Then without warning, Alkyone flew into his arms, receiving a tight hug.

"If you know who I am, if you found us," he began, some of his hollow, vigilante intensity seeping into the words, "then you know what happened to me."

Alkyone nodded as best she could from her position.

"I can't say it's as painful as…"

"Shut up. That doesn't matter," she stated firmly, confident and dignified once more. She pulled away from the embrace at length. "Thank you, Bruce. I don't care what people think of you in this world. You're not as bad as everyone says you are."

Diana looked on tearfully with awe, immeasurably proud of her other half's deeply caring nature. It wasn't always easy to perceive, and sometimes she forgot about it, but it undeniably existed. That was why, for the moment, Diana was content to marvel at his rare display and reflect on just how amazing of a guy her Bruce really was.

* * *

When the intense moment had passed and Alkyone was composed once more, she began to recount, in greater detail, the events leading up to her departure and the current condition of the island.

She told Bruce and Diana how Hippolyta's honor guards, rallied by Artemis, had conspired to overthrow the Queen for her inaction that worsened the divide between their people, as well her sudden change of heart with regards to being lenient with Bruce and the reformists. She explained how Artemis had seized the throne, imprisoned the ex-queen, and been named the new champion of the amazons, despite the Five's apparent and disturbing silence in this time of dire crisis.

Alkyone recounted the savage battles that ravaged their cities, and how the reformists had been defeated and driven into the outskirt wilderness of the island. Having stayed behind and pretended to cooperate with the traditionalists, Alkyone had been able to wait for an opportune moment to steal the invisible jet and fly to man's world for help.

"I remembered what Hippolyta had told us about you, first when we tracked you down in Gotham and then again when Diana used your real name on the beach. I figured it out and searched aimlessly for you over the course of days. My inexperience with this world made the going slow and difficult."

Diana nodded. "You endured and risked much by coming here, Alkyone. I am as honored and grateful for your aid as I am disgusted by the vile treachery of our people. Of Artemis, a woman I once called a more than friend," she declared ominously.

The other amazon nodded. "It was the least I could do. I owed you, owed the true soul of our people, that much," she graciously replied.

"Alkyone, you must be exhausted. We should eat and rest here tonight before going to the island in the morning. We can come up with a more detailed plan of action later."

Begrudgingly, Diana and Alkyone eventually acquiesced the logic of Bruce's argument. "My heart aches for Themyscira. For my sisters. For my mother. Despite all she's done, I still love her and believe that there is a shred of good inside. I can't just abandon her in her time of need. Order must be restored to the island, and my mother is the one who can do it. Especially if she's truly changed her mind," Diana explained.

"Agreed," Bruce said, nodding.

Diana's words made sense. He still hadn't told her that he'd learned the identity of the archer who had accidentally shot her instead of him, though. In truth, Bruce hadn't known how to tell Diana…couldn't bear to dredge up those horrendous memories or crush her spirit. And with Alkyone's urgent news in their minds, now was definitely not the time to reveal that information. The last thing they needed was something jarring like that to distract from their mission. This thought made him feel horribly guilty, even though he rationally knew that the reasons behind his conclusion were rock solid.

 _Forgive me, princess,_ Bruce pleaded silently.

* * *

"Damian," Bruce's baritone rang out in the pitch-black cave, rumbling over the communicators like a thunderstorm.

"Father."

"How goes your work with the Titans?"

Damian sighed. "As well as can be expected, I suppose," he replied dryly. "I am finding their methods a bit lacking and unconventional for my tastes…but not entirely bad. Our camaraderie has improved greatly over the past few weeks. We have begun to work well together, despite my initial reservations. You were right to force me to work with them. The experience had proved…eye-opening."

"Good to hear," Bruce replied. "Listen, something important has come up. I may need your help for a while, if you aren't desperately needed there."

"What's wrong?"

"Diana needs our help. Themyscira is in trouble, and she's determined to help them and save her mother, no matter what."

A pause. Then, a determined "I'll pack my gear."

"Good," Bruce said, a proud smile cracking on his face. "We can discuss the details when you arrive."

Dead air.

* * *

Bruce gently stroked the bare, soft skin of Diana's back. Other than a barely perceptible shiver of pleasure, the princess barely reacted to his touch. She merely stared aimlessly out of the moonlight bedroom window from her head's position rested on his broad chest.

"Something wrong?" he whispered almost directly into her ear.

"I never thought this would happen," she stated listlessly, not breaking the stare. "I can't sleep, can't enjoy the comfort of your touch. Not while my home is in danger. Not as my people consume themselves in a tide of wrath. Not as my mother is jailed and at the mercy of betrayers. I have to do something. It's all I can think about right now."

"We'll put a stop to it," Bruce assured her. "Do whatever we can to help, just like we always do. The fact that this mission is more personal is of no consequence. The only thing different is the scale and the stakes, a caliber of which we have faced before and emerged victorious. But we can't linger on that. All there is is what we must do. And we _will_ do it, Diana. Save her. Save them. Of that, you have my promise."

After a moment of consideration, Diana finally tilted her gaze up to meet his, curling a bit deeper into his body at the same time. She looked into his soul with starry eyes.

"I believe you. I know. It just hurts," she explained softly. "Thank you. What would I do without you, Bruce?" Diana followed up, planting a strong kiss on his jaw.

Bruce groaned his pleasure and kneaded his fingers through Diana's silky, ebon hair. "The same thing I'd do without you," he replied. "I love you, Diana."

"I love you too, Bruce. Whatever happens, I need you to know that."

They shared another chaste, yet intense kiss.

"Now, let's try to get some sleep. We'll need it for the task ahead," Bruce said reasonably.

Diana nodded, nuzzling herself into a supremely comfortable position against him.

There was nothing more they could say to one another that hadn't been said before. It was all out in the open, bared plainly for both to see, mutually expressed through every passionate touch and gesture between them.


End file.
